


Our Core is Madness

by Terrenis



Series: Movie AU's [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Cell (2000)
Genre: AU - Year 2000, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brainwashing, Brock's screwed up childhood, Bucky has Issues and a metal arm, DID (sort of), F/F, F/M, Howards A+++parenting, M/M, Multi, Murder Kink, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Phil Coulson is a fanboy in every universe, Serial Killers, Steve needs better friends, Teen! Tony, Tony is in a coma, Zola is a dick, mentions of torture of children, movie science, post-serum Steve, sbb2017, tw: Death by Drowning, tw: Mental Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 09:46:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 61,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11849013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terrenis/pseuds/Terrenis
Summary: When Crossbones, New York’s and New Jersey’s newest Serial Killer, collapses, when finally captured, it’s up to SHIELD Agent Steve Rogers to find a way to locate the killer’s newest victim, before it’s too late.Enter one James "Bucky" Barnes - a psychologist and engineer, who uses an experimental device to engulf into his patients’ minds. In a race against time, Steve and his partner Natasha turn to him for help and Bucky agrees, while secretly fighting against his growing attraction for the nice blond federal agent. The only question is: Is it safe to enter a mad man's subconscious or will it end badly for them both?Or a The Cell! AU that no one asked for. But I wrote it anyway.





	1. Prologue: Modus Operandi

**Author's Note:**

  * For [noncorporealform](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noncorporealform/gifts).



> I proudly present my result for this year's Stucky Big Bang 2017 in collaboration with the incredibly talented [noncorporealform](http://noncorporealform.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20edits). 
> 
> It's been very hard to write at times, but I'm really proud that I made it.
> 
> Happy Reading!

Art by the uncredibly talented [noncorporealform](http://noncorporealform.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20edits)

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Prologue: Modus Operandi

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The shop was in an older building in Dumbo next to the Main Street at the East River waterfront and right under the Manhattan Bridge.

Sharon was working there undercover as the shop manager, since the owner was being suspected to be part of a human trafficking ring.

Unfortunately, being a SHIELD Agent meant that she knew next to nothing about managing, ink and the rest. So, the blonde woman was lucky to have a foster brother, who had the gift of being talented in that area. One crash course and several, with a non-permanent ink, painted on tattoos later, she had been ready for her assignment.

Now, three months later, Sharon was getting bored, since nothing important had happened ever since. Perhaps she should call Nick if there was a new development or she might as well call it off.

Adjusting her work clothing, if you could call a black, skin-tight armless leather mini dress that, Sharon glanced at the big, radio controlled station clock which showed that it was shortly before midnight. Time to call it a day. It was

A glance at the side showed her that two of the resident artists were still deep engulfed in a session with their clients, but Sharon knew that they’d close the shop up after they were done. She bowed down and grabbed her black bag with the nice Eagle-devouring-a-skull-headed-octopus print – a gift from her friend Natasha.

She threw it over her right shoulder and emerged from behind the counter, shouting a “See you tomorrow” at the two and receiving a two-voiced “See you!” in return, before she opened the shop door and stepped out into the night.

Dumbo was still fairly busy at this time of the night, as she could see by the lights of the passing cars on the bridge. But Sharon was tired and she had promised her foster brother to call him. Luckily, her apartment block was just a few streets away. The blonde woman crossed the street, her high heels clicking loudly on the concrete, and entered the way that led into Main Street Park.

Sharon walked slowly, enjoying the warm evening and listening to the gurgling of the East River. Reaching the waterfront, she stopped for a moment and just watched the reflected lighting of the Manhattan Skyline on the river water.

Suddenly she heard the faint whining of a dog. Looking around, she spotted a bright white German Shepherd not far away from her. He was lying on the ground and somehow looked lost and forlorn to her. The blonde woman turned around to see, if the dog’s owner was around. But she couldn’t see anyone and so she slowly approached him, bending down to him.

“Hey boy, are you okay? Where’s your owner?” she cooed, one hand outstretched, as if to pet the animal.

The German Shepherd lifted his head and watched her with his crimson eyes, which sparkled in the faint light of the lanterns lining the waterfront. Sharon raised her eyebrows. An albino Shepherd? That was something you didn’t see all day.

Sharon smiled.

“Is it alright if I stroke you? Or scratch you behind the ears? You are such a beautiful dog.” She asked him.

The dog cocked his head, but finally allowed her to pet him. The blonde woman caressed the albino dog’s soft fur and scratched him behind the ears. She was so immersed in petting the animal that she forgot for a moment to watch her back. So, she didn’t hear the heavy footsteps approaching her until it was too late.

Suddenly, her natural instincts screamed at her, which usually meant that danger was not far away. However, before she could turn around, something hard was slammed right in the middle of her spine. The dog yelped, jumped and ran away, while Sharon cried out in pain and fell on the ground.

As she tried to get up, she could suddenly hear the distinctive hum of electricity. Next thing she knew was that thousands of volts raced through her body – frying her nerve endings; causing some of her blood vessels to burst; messing up her cardiac rhythm.

Her whole body seemed to be on fire and she had difficulties to stay conscious. The last thing she noticed, before she lost the fight, were two heavily scarred hands that picked her up.

Then the world turned black.

✭✭✭

The white German Shepherd sniffed at the unconscious woman and whined at the man, who knelt next to him. He picked her up easily bridal-style.

“Come on, Johann. Time for work.” He said to his dog and started walking away from the Park. Johann followed him dutifully, until the night swallowed them both.

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	2. Part I: My Mind is an open Book

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**Part I: My Mind is an open Book**

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** Chapter 1 **

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_The red dunes were everywhere._

_Most of them were towering like mountains over the wide orange-red plains of the desert, with only the occasional green camel thorn tree and the cloudless azure sky as dashes of colour._

_A steady gust of wind whirled up little clouds of sand and let them dance through the air. More and more grains joined them and slowly assumed a shape – the human form of a man walking bare-footed along the top of the dunes. With every step, the contours became clearer and sharper, until it finally manifested itself into his human form._

_The man in the dunes was gorgeous. He had shoulder-length brown hair and he wore a half-opened black shirt with long sleeves as well as matching slacks. His natural paleness was in stark contrast to the warm colour of the sand._

_He walked on and on, his mesmerizing stormy-blue eyes scanning the horizon, apparently searching for something in the distance. Suddenly he stopped, a tiny breeze playing with his stray strands of hair. He narrowed his eyes, shading them from the burning sun with one hand._

_Suddenly he spotted what he had been looking for – a flickering blue light coming from the mountain range at the horizon. The man smiled and began to walk again. He carefully slid down one of the smaller dunes, until he reached the ground._

_He found himself in a valley with dead camel thorn trees, whose decayed, gnarled branches almost looked like human upper limbs. The man unconsciously clenched his left hand, but walked on nonetheless. Although the arid ground was burning hot, the heat didn’t seem to bother him. He headed for the mountainside, where the source of the flickering blue light seemed to come from._

_The closer he got, the more intense the light got. Finally, he could pinpoint it to the entrance to a cave at the mountainside, which he had seen earlier on top of the sand hill. It didn’t take long for the man to reach his destination. Taking a deep breath, he took a step inside and followed the light through a small tunnel, just big enough for a grown man to the source of the light._

_Deep within, the cave was not what one might expect from a cave._

_No loose rocks. No bats. No dripping water forming speleothems in all its forms and variations. No crawling spaces or holes._

_Instead, the tunnel led to a spacious cavern. The man looked around. In the sparsely lit grotto, all kinds of technical gadgets were stored on several shelves. He couldn’t see any kind of sleeping area in this dwelling, except for a large, better lit work table, at which a brunette teen sat, obviously busying himself with a soldering iron and something that looked like the prototype of a robot._

_The man’s blue eyes eyed the teen and immediately spotted the light source. It was a circular shape in the middle of the boy’s chest, emitting a white-bluish light. He smiled and stepped closer._

_“Hey, Tony! I found your light.“ the man greeted the Teen. Tony looked up from his work and his tired face lit up. He laid the soldering iron aside and basically jumped up, running to the older male. He attack-hugged him, wrapping his lanky arms so tightly around the man’s waist that this one let out a loud “Oomph!” and a hearty laugh._

_“Bucky, you’re back.” Tony all but said excitedly. Bucky smiled at his charge._

_“I said I would. How is it going with your project?” he asked the adolescent. Tony beamed and grabbed Bucky by the right hand, pulling him to the work table full of tools and materials. Enthusiastically, he began to explain the fine details of his current project. Bucky listened with interest to Tony's technobabble._

_“…and I’m going to call him DUM-E.” Tony explained happily._

_“That’s awesome, pal. Give me five!” Bucky high-fived him. Then Tony sat down, eyes drawn to the older man’s left arm. He looked as if he wanted to ask something. However, something seemed to hinder him from doing so. Bucky noticed his predicament._

_“Everything alright, squirt? If you want to ask something, just do it. I won’t bite your head off.”_

_Tony suddenly stared at him with a frightened expression. As if he dreaded to be punished for asking stupid questions. Bucky sighed. Knowing Tony's background, he shouldn’t be surprised at all._

_“It's alright, Tony. No one is going to hurt you. What do you want to know?” he tried to coax him gently out of his shell._

_The teen blinked and licked his lips nervously, before he spoke so quietly that Bucky could hardly hear him._

_“Your arm…It looks so normal. Where is your cool robot arm?” Tony wanted to know. Bucky let out a small laugh and rolled up the left sleeve of his shirt, revealing a normal looking human arm._

_“Actually, I wanted to show you my new sleeve. But since you seem to prefer the metal one…” Bucky showed it off. Tony looked at the left arm and suddenly gasped. The surface of the flesh-coloured sleeve began to form cracks that ran across the whole arm. Between the cracks, something silver shimmered through. The cracks became wider and wider, until they simply melted away, revealing a limb made of pure metal with interlocking plates that moved from time to time._

_At once, Tony’s expression changed to one of joy and fascination. Bucky allowed him to examine the prosthetic, knowing that Tony was slightly obsessed with it. But that was okay. While the Teen cooed over the metal limb, gushing how awesome it was, Bucky watched him intensely, mentally gathering the strength to prepare what was coming next._

_“So…I was thinking that we could make a walk. It’s beautiful outside. Why waste it by staying here?” he asked carefully._

_Tony stopped what he was doing and stared at the older male. Suddenly, it was as if a switch inside the teen had been flipped. Tony stiffened, stood up and walked mechanically into the darkest corner of the cave, where he curled up in a foetal position._

_Bucky followed at a slow pace. He had expected such a reaction from the teen. Reaching the corner, he crouched down a few metres away from the teen, holding out a hand._

_“Tony?” he probed carefully. The teen turned his head, his eyes now completely black._

_“What do you want, quack? Can’t you leave my boy alone?” Tony yelled at him with the voice of an older man._

_Bucky narrowed his eyes. Behind the teen, a shadow appeared and turned into the shape of a bearded, bald man. This was not Tony, but Obie, Obadiah Stane, Tony's trauma in human form – something he was now familiar with._

_“Tony…” he said in a warningly tone. Obie snickered and put an arm around the teen’s shoulders._

_“Tony is not here right now. Please leave a message and we call you back later. Maybe.” the bald man taunted Bucky._

_“Let Tony alone, Obie.” the Brunette growled._

_Obie snickered again and pulled an apathetic Tony close to him – a gesture, which made Bucky’s skin crawl. But there was nothing he could do now. Not when Tony was in this state._

_Sighing, he opened the palm of his metal hand and pressed a spot between thumb and forefinger. Immediately, his surroundings started to fade._

_Then the world turned white._

 

Yggdrasil Centre for Neurosciences, NYC

Inside, what looked like a modern laboratory, a curly-haired man wearing glasses looked at a large screen showing an electronically generated three-dimensional view of a human brain, neural activity coded in different colours. In a specific section of it, several cells changed their colour from red to yellow to green.

Sitting next to both sides of the man are a black male and a woman with long, brunette hair. Both were wearing the same lab coats as the first man and were surrounded by computers, monitors, electronics and keyboards. While the black man watched the two monitors in front of him, the woman typed away at hers, analysing the data and images from the unusual computer system, which hummed throughout the room, while shifting programs by the second.

Meanwhile, the man with the glasses gazed through a large window into the adjoining room, where two human figures in special bodysuits, an adult one and an adolescent one, were hanging suspended in mid-air by several threads, obviously designed to simulate flotation.

He took a pen from a pocket of his coat and tapped on certain areas of the large screen, changing the complex with the words CHEMICAL SYMBOLS.

In the adjoining room, a series of medications were injected into an intravenous tube feeding the right arm of the figure. A featherweight cloth covering the head of the adult figure electronically rose, revealing the sleeping face of Bucky.

The older man turned to the woman.

“Estimated wake-up time, Jane?” he asked her. Doctor Jane Foster switched the tabs on her screen to the one controlling the chemical injections.

“Thirty seconds, Bruce.” She answered.

Doctor Bruce Banner nodded in approval. He turned his head to his left.

“Any problems, Sam?” he asked the technician. Sam Wilson shook his head.

“Everything’s okay!” he replied.

“Alright then…” Bruce clapped his hands together and moved to tap a button at the console beneath his monitor. Then, he began to say something into his headset, which he was wearing on his mop of hair.

“…Haven't felt like this, my dear…” the scientist spoke loudly into the microphone.

In the Procedure Room, Bucky showed no sign of reaction to the words. Bruce repeated his speech.

“…Haven't felt like this, my dear…” he said the words anew.

“…Since I can't remember when…“ Bucky whispered in the adjoining room, his voice hoarse and raspy.

Bruce smiled.

“…It's been a long, long time…” he continued, then waiting for Bucky to answer.

“…It's been a long, long time…” Bucky sang, his eyes opening.

Bruce removed his headset, while Jane pressed a button, causing both figures to be lowered down on the pedestal. The curly-haired scientist checked Bucky's vitals on his screen. They looked normal. Bruce activated a digital keypad on the touchscreen of his console and put in a sequence of numbers, which opened the pressurized airlock between the two rooms.

Then Bruce strode over in the Procedure Room and eased Bucky easily out of the apparatus he was connected to. Checked his pupil dilation, his pulse, throat and his reflexes. The whole prodding and poking thing might seem rude to any outsiders, but to the men it was a familiar routine. When he was done, Bruce helped Bucky getting on his feet, whereby Bucky’s almost liquid looking bodysuit shimmered wetly in the bright light.

The brunette man looked at the smaller form on the platform next to his.

“How’s Tony doing, Sam?” he asked loudly.

In the other room, Sam looked at Bruce's second, a tad smaller monitor, which showed the data of a smaller brain. Compared to Bucky's brain data, which was now completely shown green, it was speckled in reds and yellows.

“Great, Buck. I’m going to lift his mask now.” the technician said through the intercom microphone, before pressing a button. The cloth covering Tony's face was lifted upwards, revealing the haunted, catatonic appearance of the smaller boy.

Glancing at their charge, Bruce turned to Bucky.

“So, how did your little trip go? Did you let him work on your arm?” he asked the younger man. Bucky didn’t let his gaze stray from the young Stark Heir.

“Almost. He showed me his newest project – DUM-E, a robot. It was going quite well, until…” he told his friend and colleague, until he suddenly stopped. Bruce decided to broach the subject again, sensing that there was more.

“Until what?” he pressed gently.

Bucky sighed.

“Obie showed up. Taunted me again. You know how hard he’s to come by.” He explained.

Bruce exhaled a deep breath.

“I see.” was the only thing he said. Not that he’d have expected otherwise. Tony’s trauma was severe and not easy to cure.

“Well, let’s get him back to his room.” Bucky said, not wanting to tell more about his misfortune. He detached the cables from Tony's suit and heaved his frail body gently in the nearby wheelchair. Bruce took his penlight and examined the teen’s open eyes – just like before, it was an endless and unemotional void, dark and haunted, but oddly enough, still beautiful.

Bucky covered Tony's lap with his favourite blanket and put a teddy bear wearing a red and golden full body armour, made of a rare metal only available in Wakanda, in his lap – a gift from Pepper Potts, Stark Industries’ CEO and Maria's most trusted female friend. Bucky called it affectionately the Iron Bear.

A buzzer suddenly sounded and another door to the right opened, an elegantly dressed black man coming in from the lobby. Sam and Jane joined them from the Procedure Room.

“So, anybody up for food? I’m starving.” Sam asked the others, clapping his hands together. He also addressed the newcomer. “You coming too, Chal?” Sam asked.

T’Challa, who not only happened to be one of their part-time administrators, but also one of the Institute’s sponsors – the CEO of the American Branch of Wakanda Inc., _the_ technology firm in the small African country of Wakanda, where he was also the Crown Prince.

“I’d love to, Sam, but we have to postpone this. I need Jane, James, and Bruce with me in the Meeting Room in thirty minutes.” T’Challa explained.

Bucky frowned.

“Why do you need us there?” he asked the other man, although he had a nagging suspicion, his grip around the handles of Tony's wheelchair tightening.

T’Challa sighed.

“The Starks are here to discuss Tony's progress and if they are ready to support his therapy anymore.” He explained.

Silence fell over the group. Everybody knew that Stark Industries was one of their major sponsors besides Wakanda Inc. and Odinson Corp., a technology and research firm from Iceland. Loki, the CEO of Odinson Corp., also happened to be the half-brother of Jane’s husband Thor.

Howard Stark Jr., Tony's father, was a genius in his own rights, when it came to his technology skills. Unfortunately, he lacked diverse parenting skills and was a penny-pinching bastard. If it weren’t for his wife and his CEO, Tony would be vegetating away in some luxurious nursing home without being able to get some real help.

However, that was also the reason why they met up biannually. Howard wanted to know the state of his investments. Yes, for him, his only son was an investment, while Pepper and Maria cared for Tony's well-being.

Bucky let out a deep breath and let go of the chair’s handles.

“Fine. Give me five minutes to change into something decent and then I’ll join you in the lobby.” He said. T'Challa nodded in approval. Bucky turned his head to Sam.

“Can you bring Tony into his realm? I’ll meet you there.” He asked his friend.

“Sure, man.” Sam patted him on his shoulder, before he took over the wheelchair from Bucky. “Don’t let the Stark Shark get to you. You know what he’s like.” Then the technician turned his attention to his charge. “Come on, Mr. T, let’s get you back to your luxury apartment.” Sam smiled at Tony and pushed the moveable chair out of the Procedure Room.

“Okay, see you in five, Bucky.” Jane said, looking at her wristwatch. Then she followed T’Challa.

Bruce patted Bucky’s shoulder.

“Don’t sweat it. You’ll see that everything is going to be alright.” He soothed the younger man, sensing that the whole situation was upsetting Bucky.

Bucky just sighed and sent a silent prayer to the ceiling, calling for strength to survive the meeting.

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Brooklyn, NYC

Sunlight flooded through the large view window of the top floor apartment of the old brownstone, illuminating the sleeping silhouette of a fair-haired, bare-chested man in a king size bed, a royal blue bedspread the only thing covering his lower regions.

In the back, countless books filled several shelves standing at the wall, ranging from fiction to nonfiction and coffee-table books. Opposite the bed, a flat screen was mounted over what seemed like a home office. On the desk surface stood several framed photographs, showing the man alone, him as a young boy with an older woman and a young blonde girl, him and the girl, a single photo of the older woman, the man with a redheaded woman and more people.

The man slept peacefully, as if nothing in the world could harm him. Suddenly the shrill ringing of a cell phone disturbed the quiet peace. The blond moaned in his sleep, but didn’t make a move to wake up. The mobile kept ringing and ringing, only if to get a reaction out of its owner.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, tired blue eyes opened, only to close again, when they were blinded by the bright white light. An arm shot out to the nightstand, a strong hand searching the surface for the source of the irritating noise – a brand-new blue Ericsson R380 World. It found it very quickly and grabbed it, holding it to the blond man’s ear after pressing a button.

“Rogers.” A sleepy voice grumbled.

 _“Good, you're awake.”_ A female voice answered him.

The blond man groaned, turned around so that he was lying on his back, before he opened his eyes.

“What do you want, Nat? It's my day off, so you better have a very good reason to call me.” He groused.

The voice at the other side chuckled, before she became serious.

 _“Unfortunately, I have. Steve, Crossbones got another one.”_ She said.

Immediately, Steve was wide awake. Crossbones was the name of the serial killer, who terrorised New York and New Jersey for months. He mostly kidnapped women of importance, who turned up dead a few days later – completely naked and bleached, a branding of a skulled octopus with crossed bones above their navels. The branding was the main reason, why he was called Crossbones.

“Who is it?” the blond man asked, while getting out of the warm cosiness of his bed.

Nat’s voice remained silent for a whole while and Steve got a weird feeling in his gut.

 _“Steve, he got Sharon.”_ Her voice finally whispered.

Steve’s blood ran cold. That couldn’t be. Sharon was on an undercover assignment. She was fine. She had to be fine.

“Where?” he demanded to know, while looking desperately for something clean to wear. He really needed to do a laundry run in the next few days.

 _“Main Street Park. Right at the waterfront.”_ She replied.

“Alright, I’m there in ten.” He said before hanging up.

Grunting, Steve changed into a pair of dark trousers, a white shirt and a dark leather jacket, slipped into a pair of black leather shoes. Before he left his apartment, he grabbed his wallet and his keys.

Luckily, Main Street Park was not far away from where he lived. So, it didn’t take him long to arrive at the scene. He could spot Natasha's fiery hair right away. His best friend wore a dark-blue pantsuit today, looking good as always. But not only Natasha was there, but also Phil Coulson, Fury’s right hand man, and his little squad of geniuses – aka Daisy Johnson, SHIELD’s best hacker and technician, and FitzSimmons, married couple and SHIELD’s best lab monkeys.

Then he remembered, why he was here on his day off, and all but ran through the small park. Natasha waved at him and Steve joined her, barely out of breath from his small run.

“Are you sure it's her?” he asked his partner, his eyes not leaving the spot, where FitzSimmons were discussing something very loudly. Natasha pointed at the ground where a bag and a black heel was lying. Steve recognized the bag. It had been a gift from Natasha on Sharon's birthday.

“Shit!” Steve cursed loudly, causing Phil to look strangely at the blond man. Natasha nudged him.

“Not so loud, Steve. You’ll give Phil a heart attack. You cannot destroy his belief in the pureness of Captain America.” She deadpanned. Steve rolled his eyes. He hated this nickname with a passion. And Phil being such a fanboy of him didn’t make it easier.

“Don’t call me that.” He grumbled. Natasha laughed quietly, before she became serious again.

“FitzSimmons found the same barely visible scorch marks as on the other kidnapping sites. And there’s a small puddle of blood, as you can see. She must have hurt her head, when she fell to the ground.” She pointed to the reddish-brown spot not far from the handbag.

Steve clenched his fists. Just the mere thought that his foster sister was in the claws of that monster, made his blood boil. They needed to find her – quickly. Or she would be dead, just like the other women. Aunt Peggy would be crushed if something would happen to her only living relative.

“I need to tell Peggy.” He whispered, suddenly realizing that this was something he had to share with his foster mother, besides the fact that they almost never spoke about Steve's or Sharon's work.

Natasha sighed. Having to deal with a serial killer was already bad, but seeing her best friend this down was worse. It would more than likely kill him, if they didn’t find Sharon before she turned up dead, too.

“Alright, then. You go to Peggy now and I’ll see you later at the Triskelion.” She said in a quiet voice.

Steve looked at her and nodded silently. He hugged her, before heading into the opposite direction. “See you later!” he shouted back.

“Tell her I said hi!” was Natasha's answering shout.

“Will do that!” Steve retorted, before he ran all the way back through the park and crossed the street, disappearing in the maze of streets that was Brooklyn.

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** Chapter 2 **

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Margaret Elizabeth Carter, called Peggy by everyone who knew her, lived very close to the very building, where Steve's apartment was. She had once been a British officer for the predecessor of what today was known as SHIELD. Together with Howard Stark Sr., she had founded and worked for that particular organisation.

Later, she had taken care of her deceased sister’s youngest daughter, together with her late wife Angie Martinelli-Carter. When Sharon had been six years old, a little blond orphan boy literally crashed into their lives and hadn’t left ever since.

Sharon and Steve grew up as siblings and stayed like that. While Sharon started working for SHIELD right away, Steve had joined the organisation later after two stints with the army, despite Peggy's reluctance. She knew how difficult and dangerous this trade could be. But her nice and her foster son were both hot-headed and stubborn people, so that arguing was useless.

Now, at the ripe age of 75, she shared her large apartment with her niece, while spending the days doing charity work or making Director Fury’s life a living hell by bothering him every day with “Why don’t you do it this way?” - questions. She rather enjoyed doing the second thing.

But today was different. She had woken up with a strange feeling in her gut. As if something bad had happened. Sharon, who was usually there in the mornings, was not in her room. But that could be just an coincidence, since her niece sometimes tended to do the grocery shopping in the morning hours.

After putting on her favourite blue dress and making a good old English breakfast and tea, she retreated to the living room with one of her favourite books. However, she was barely able to focus on the plot, since the bad feeling was growing stronger inside her.

So, it was no surprise to her, when the doorbell suddenly started ringing and whoever was there, kept doing this. She got up and slowly walked to the front door using her silver cane with the SHIELD eagle emblem. It had been a gift from Angie, after Peggy had been shot multiple times in the leg on one of her last assignments before she became Director, leaving it permanently stiff.

The older woman looked through the spy hole and was just a tad surprised to see her foster son standing there, although she hadn’t expected him before Sunday for dinner.

Peggy opened the door with a huge smile on her face.

“Steve, my boy. I’m so glad to see you. Come in and give an old woman a hug.” She teased and embraced the blond man.

“Hey Peggy! How are you?”

“I’m fine, my boy. Why do you always ask the same thing? I may be old, but I’m not that fragile.” She teased him

Steve blushed adorably.

“Sorry. Force of habit. By the way, Natasha told me to tell you she said hi.”

Steve flashed her a small smile and returned the hug, before Peggy let him in and closed the door. Steve tucked his arm into hers and walked her slowly to her favourite armchair, in which she had been sitting before and waited for her to sit down, before he joined her by taking a seat on the couch next to her.

“So, what brings you here that early in the week? If you’re looking for Sharon…She’s not here. Either she is doing our weekly grocery shopping or she’s already at work. I don’t really know.” The old woman explained.

Steve looked at his foster mother and cringed internally. How should he explain to her that her only living relative had been kidnapped by the City’s worst serial killer in centuries? He had no idea how to do this without breaking her heart.

Peggy must have noticed his internal struggle. She put one of her bony hands on his knee.

“Steve, if there is something you want to tell me, just do it. I promise I won’t break.” She encouraged him. Steve sighed and closed his blue eyes.

“Sharon got kidnapped by Crossbones. I’m just coming from the crime scene.” He whispered.

Peggy stared at him, before she took a deep breath. “Are you sure it’s her?” she asked in a surprisingly steady voice.

Steve opened his eyes and nodded, looking at her once again. “We found one of her heels and her bag – the one which Nat gave her for her birthday.” He explained quietly.

When Peggy said nothing, just looked tired all of a sudden, Steve took her hands in his and squeezed them affectionately.

“I promise that I will find her. Alive.” He whispered. The older woman just nodded and pulled her hands out of Steve’s grip, patting his hands tenderly.

“I know you will. But we both know that there’s a high chance that she won’t come back alive.” She said quietly. Steve looked sadly at her. Of course, there was a high probability that Sharon was going to end up like all the other victims.

“I know.” He replied.

For a long time, neither of them said a word, until Peggy let go off Steve’s hands and leaned back into her comfy chair, letting out a deep sigh. The blond man shot her a worried look.

“Are you alright, Peggy?” he asked.

Peggy let out a weak chuckle.

“Just tired. Why don’t you go and find your sister? I still will be here, when you come back.” She said quietly.

Steve looked unsure, as if debating if it was safe to leave her alone right now. In the end, his desire to find Sharon won. He stood up and kneeled next to Peggy.

“Alright. But please call me if you need anything. I’m going to talk to Clint. I’m sure he can help you with your groceries.”  He replied. Peggy smiled at her foster son and patted his cheek lovingly.

“Thank you, Stevie. I’m going to be alright. Now go and send Natasha my regards.” She all but shooed him away. Steve rolled his eyes, but gave her a goodbye kiss on her cheek, before he got up and turned to leave.

“I’m serious. Call me anytime, Peggy.” He insisted. Peggy just nodded and waited, until the blond man had left her apartment and the clicking sound of the closing door could be heard. Only then, she turned her head and looked at the parade of framed photographs on the mantelpiece above the fireplace.

Most of them showed her and her late wife, some Sharon and Steve in younger years, some the four of them. In the rightmost corner, was a single photograph that showed a younger Peggy, an older man with a distinctive moustache to her left, a young black man with an eyepatch in the middle, a short pudgy man with round glasses on the right putting his left arm around the shoulders of a six-year-old boy with a long scar running down the left side of his face, who looked emotionlessly at whoever had taken the photograph.

Peggy stared long at the last photo, her eyes resting on the young boy.

“Please don’t let her suffer too much!” she begged him quietly.

Only then she allowed herself the luxury to cry.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

Somewhere in New Jersey.

Sharon woke up with a splitting headache and the general aching of her oppressed, and strangely drenched, body, finding herself lying on the floor in an unfamiliar environment. Cracking open her eyes, she closed them immediately to shield them from the blinding white light.

A loud, painful noise escaped her cracked lips, as she turned to lay on her bruised back. Immediately millions of flashes of pain travelled along her neural pathways of her spinal cord and she could barely breathe because of the immense amount of agony. As fast as her injuries allowed her to, she rolled to the side and was relieved to find out that it helped her ability to respire enormously.

Slowly the pain subsided and the blonde woman cracked open her blue eyes, trying to find out where she was. She could definitely rule out her Aunt’s apartment. Apparently, she was in some sort of shower stall, complete with a toilet, a showerhead and a button spigot for getting drinking water – but no door. The bright light came from a built-in fluorescent lamp, encased in clear plastic – the only source of light in the otherwise dark location.

From what she could see, two of the four walls were normal solid walls. The other two were kind of mirrored, the glass reinforced by clear, thick plastic. On the ground, she was surrounded by dozens of empty food wrappers - candy and energy bars, juice containers and so on.

Sharon heaved herself up carefully and pushed her aching body towards one of the walls, only to slump down against one of the mirrored walls. Now that she was more awake, she slowly started to realize that she was directly involved in Steve's case.

Crossbones.

The one who had killed not only Fury’s left-hand woman Maria Hill, but also two more women of importance. And it seemed that Sharon was about to become Number Four on his list.

The blonde woman lifted her head and started to look for a way out. Steve and Aunt Peggy would be disappointed if she didn’t at last try to escape from this cell. Although, from the looks of it, it didn’t seem possible. The only other thing she saw, was a drain on the ground, which had been previously covered by her body.

Sharon was still figuring out ways out of her dilemma, when a strange noise from above caught her attention. It was a strange clicking noise, followed by a deep rumble. The blonde woman inhaled sharply. Judging by her soaked clothing, she had a hunch what was coming and wrapped her bare arms around her aching torso, bowed her head down.

For a second – nothing happened.

Then water just erupted from the shower head – ice-cold water – and soaked Sharon through from head to toe, hitting everything in the small room. She screamed as thousands of tiny needles seemed to pierce her already oversensitive skin. Internally, she started a mental countdown, whispering to herself “Two, Three, Five, Seven, Eleven, Thirteen…” and so on, reciting prime numbers from scratch.

From her point of view, which included only the bottom of the cell right now, she waited for the water to stop and run down the drain. But nothing of the sort happened. Instead, she heard a soft sucking sound and another click, before she watched as the empty wrappers started to float on a rapidly rising puddle of water.

 _Damnit, Crossbones must have sealed shut the drain,_ she thought, now slightly panicking. She needed to get out.

Suddenly, she noticed a movement in the corner of her eye. Despite her sore body’s protests, the blonde woman jumped up and pounded with her fists at the mirrored side of the cell.

“Show yourself! I know you’re there.” She screamed at the top of her lungs, only to back away from the clear wall, as a male figure stepped out of the shadows into the illuminated compartment. A horrified expression appeared on her face.

Because she had seen that face before.

The deep scar running down the left side of his face.

The empty, emotionless expression in his eyes.

Only younger.

Standing right in front of her, his hand crawling the head of a pure white German shepherd, was Crossbones.

But Sharon just knew him as the boy from her Aunt’s photo.

“I know you.” Were the only words she said. Crossbones just stared at her without saying something, before he turned back and stepped back into the darkness of whatever location she was, the white hound following him on the spot.

Sharon pounded her fists against the mirrored walls, her wet hair clinging uncomfortably against her throbbing skull.

“COME BACK! I JUST WANT TO TALK TO YOU.” she yelled. But Crossbones stayed hidden in the shadow. Sharon heard the faraway sound of a door being closed and breathed heavily, while the water continued to soak her further.

Meanwhile, it had risen to a level, where it reached her knees. Shaking from the cold, Sharon stumbled back. Another loud click sounded through the cell and just as the blonde woman looked above, the water pressure amplified twofold.

With the water now increasing by the second, Sharon didn’t want to take any chances anymore. With a loud “Oomph”, she threw herself against the clear wall with full force.

One time, two times, three times…

The wall didn’t even show a crack. But Sharon didn’t stop trying. Although she was already up to her waist in water and the cold creeped into her bones, she kept throwing herself against the plexiglass wall, refusing to give up. It was the thought of her Aunt and her foster cousin that kept her going. She wanted to see them again, although she already knew that it was more wishful thinking on her side.

She only stopped when the water was up to her neck. Because the water and the cold slowed her movements noticeably.

Panic started to set, as Sharon struggled to stay afloat. It felt like the weight of the world tried to pull her underwater. At last, she lost her footing and only a small gap between the ceiling and the surface of the water remained. She bounced under the water surface and reappeared, all the while clinging to every tiny bit of air.

She spasmed, when she swallowed the first bits of water and it tried to enter her lungs. Immediately, her vocal attempted, no, did spasm in a natural reflex, sealing the airways in an inherent way to protect her breathing organs from being flooded. The icy water entered her stomach instead.

Because of the expected lack of air and the panic, which clung to her body, Sharon started to hyperventilate, until black spots started to dance in front of her eyes and she couldn’t breathe anymore. One hand clutched her neck, as her voice refused to cooperate. Sharon just wanted to breathe. She really wanted, too. Oh, the urge to inhale was so tempting.

There was a roaring sound in her ears that kept getting louder and louder, as she slowly sank down, and she clutched her now burning chest, her heart beating so rapidly, as if it was about to explode any moment. She couldn’t do this anymore. She needed to breathe. Even if it killed her.

 _I’m sorry, Aunt Peggy and Stevie. But I can’t do this anymore,_ she sent a last thought to the most important people in her life.

she opened her mouth and watched with morbid fascination, as tiny oxygen bubbles sought their way to the surface.

Only then, the blonde woman took a deep breath and succumbed to the everlasting darkness.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

**Chapter 3**

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

It didn’t take Bucky long to change from his bodysuit into a decent pair of black bootcut jeans and a silver-grey, long-sleeved polo shirt, a red star weakly glittering on the upper arm of the right sleeve. A pair of well-worn black and white sneakers completed his casual outfit.

Bucky pulled his shoulder-length brown hair into a tight ponytail and fastened with a bright red hair tie. One last look in the mirror of the lab’s changing area and he was ready to go.

Bucky headed out of the changing rooms and into the hallway that led straight forward to the huge lobby, sunlight flooding through windows as high as a three-floor house. Jane, Bruce and T'Challa were standing at the reception and talking to an older, sour-looking man in his late forties.

Howard Stark Jr. looked very much like his father, but everyone, who had known the older Stark, knew that their attitudes were miles apart. Next to him was an elegantly dressed woman in her early forties, holding a black clutch, which matched her black and dark-blue dress perfectly. Maria Carbonell – Stark, Tony's mother, was a really lovely woman, who must have the patience of an angel to put up with Howard for so long.

Their third visitor was Pepper Petts, former PA to Howard and currently acting CEO. The strawberry redheaded woman wore a dark purple business costume with matching handbag. She also was Maria's best friend and loved the boy just as much. Right now, she put a comforting hand on the older woman, while listening to Bruce and Jane.

Bucky stopped, when he saw the three, and took a deep breath. _Go in and win, Buck_ , he thought and put on his business face. He strode over to the reception and greeted the Starks and Ms. Potts. Howard sneered at him as usual, but gave him a brief and weak handshake, while Maria and Pepper greeted him with a wide smile and a clap on his shoulders.

After that, Bucky led them all to Tony's realm.

“Tony's realm” was really just a single hospital room. Although filled with medical equipment, several family photos, drawings of Tony’s first ‘inventions’, posters of famous scientists and some of his miniature robot toys tried their best to camouflage its sterility – an attempt from Maria and the Institute’s staff to make it look more like home, no expense spared.

Tony lay unmoving in his bed, dull eyes staring anywhere but at the two women sitting at each side of his bed. Pepper and Maria took turns holding Tony's hand, caressing his hair and speaking quietly to him, telling him how much they missed him and that he should come back to them very soon.

Bucky watched them with a fond expression from his place right next to the door, where he was standing with Bruce and Jane. These two women cared very much for his young charge. It was more than he could say about Howard, who was standing at the room’s large window, alternating between busying himself with his StarkPhone and scowling at the women and especially him.

“His hair is getting too long. He needs a haircut.” Maria complained, running her long fingers through her son’s unruly hair.

“I’ll tell the nurses.” Bucky promised, before his eyes widened slightly. He had just sensed something within Tony. “Oh my gosh, he loves it when you visit.” He explained to her.

Maria beamed at him and continued her actions. “That’s good to hear, Bucky. If only his father would appreciate your work as we do…” she said with a not so subtle side glance at her husband.

Bucky sucked in a deep breath. He had the distinct feeling that something bad was about to come. Maria sighed. “My husband wants to move Tony to another hospital. I’m sorry.”

Bucky stared unbelievingly at the Starks. His worst fears just seemed to come true. They couldn’t do that.

“You can’t do that. We’re just about to make some progress. I just need more time…” he pleaded. A loud huff came from the window. Howard put his phone into his jacket and looked the younger directly in the eyes. Bucky shuddered at the mere coldness in Howard’s.

“Listen, Mr. Barnes. No one is doubting your abilities. But it’s been almost two years now, since we put my son into your care. What did we get until now? Nothing. Nineteen months and all we got is nothing.” Howard all but barked, making all present flinch.

“Howard…” Maria hissed angrily at her husband, her hand clutching Tony’s. But the older man dismissed his wife’s objection.

“There is no proof the procedure works.  All I had was a belief that your interaction with my son was not a hallucination. This has been nothing than a waste of precious time and money. My time and money.” He stated.

Bucky felt something bubble up within him. It was part exhaustion, which he always felt after such an intense contact with Tony. And it was anger. Anger at this situation. Anger at Howard, who didn’t treat his son like the treasure he was. Anger at Obie, who kept sabotaging his efforts to bring Tony back.

“With all due respect, Mr. Stark, but leaving Tony in an overpriced nursing home for the rest of his life is even more expensive. I know the chances for him to recover here are small. But nevertheless, it’s a chance. And if you would care for your son, you’d take it.” He snapped at the older man.

Somehow, his words must at least have hit a nerve, because Howard gaped at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish on dry land, while starting to turn dangerously purple in the face. Maria and Pepper, on the other hand, stared at him with a proud smile on their faces. As if he were a toddler that just had said his first word.

A toddler that just might have made a grave mistake.

A hand settled calmly on his trembling shoulder.

“Bucky, why don’t you go to the cafeteria and get a tea? You’re still physically and emotionally exhausted from the session. I’m settling this.” Bruce suggested after witnessing their little display of disaffection.

Bucky clenched his fists, but knew deep down in his heart that his friend was right. He wanted Tony to get better and he needed Stark’s funding for that. Right now, Bruce was the better choice for the negotiation with Stark.

Bucky deflated visibly and nodded. He’d leave Tony's fate in Bruce’s and Jane's competent hands. Turning around and striding out of the room, he didn’t look back, although…

Although he wanted to. But the thought of never seeing Tony again was too much too bear.

He needed to get out of here.

Bucky walked into the cafeteria, getting himself an extra strong tea, before he vanished into the lab to wallow in his own misery.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

A dirty-green Ford Pick-Up truck drove along a deserted two-lane blacktop, the driver anxiously intending to stick to the speed limit. After a few kilometres, he signalled, before turning right. The truck rumbled along a stretch of bumpy, unpaved road. The area he was coming through, was a big change from the lively zone that was New York.

Here, everything was desolated and so far from civilisation, depressing and deserted – as if no one has been here for years. After a while, the driver could see his destination coming nearer. The truck finally stopped at a closed gate. On the barbed wire gate were several withered stop signs and a plate with the inscription “Camp Lehigh – U.S. Army Restricted Area”. Not that it stopped the driver of the truck.

The tall man got out of his car and walked to the fence. Taking a key out of his jeans pocket, he opened the mixture of an ordinary lock and a combination lock-and-chain, which kept the entrance closed. After he had opened the gateway, he drove his truck through and parked it close to the backside of an old ammunition bunker, where no one could see it. Only then, he walked back and closed the gate again.

He looked around one more time, before he let out a loud whistle. The white German shepherd jumped out of the open window on the passenger’s side of the vehicle. The man pointed at the now closed gate and the obviously well-trained dog trotted dutifully towards the fence, where he sat down and watched the road.

The man crossed the old military base, because that’s what it was, until he reached a second, slightly smaller bunker and stepped inside. He switched on the light and the room in front of him became visible.

He was standing between several old and empty shelves that went up to the ceiling. A few metres in front of him, the room opened up into a wide space with several rows of empty office spaces. The wall behind the office spaces adorned a huge logo – an eagle with stretched out wings bursting out of a ring-shaped form with the words “Strategic Scientific Reserve”.

But that was not his intended destination. The man followed a couple of cables to, which were running from outside long the shelves. At one point, they disappeared under the shelf. He pushed a hidden button inside the shelf and waited, as two shelves parted automatically, revealing a hidden door. Next to it was a small rectangular box with a red, round artificial eye.

The man held his right eye in front of the artificial visual organ. It began to glow bright red for 15 seconds, before it died again.

“Rumlow, Brock. Identity confirmed. Welcome back!” a computerized female voice echoed through the spacious room.

With a loud hiss, the door opened and revealed a staircase that led downstairs. Brock stepped through and went downstairs, the secret door closing behind his back.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

The Triskelion, New York.

After his visit, Steve showed up at his and Natasha's office with two coffees from his favourite café. Natasha was standing in front of their whiteboard, which showed all the clues and photos in the Crossbones case.

“Here, got you something!” Steve said, as he took his place next to her, holding out one of the travel mugs.

Natasha eyed it suspiciously.

“Iced Peppermint Espresso. Your favourite.” Steve explained. His redheaded partner raised an elegant eyebrow, but took the offered drink nonetheless. She took a loud sip through the attached straw and made a satisfied noise, when the first cold drops ran down her throat.

“You sure know how to treat a girl.” She teased him. Steve blushed and sucked in a good portion of his own drink. “Just spoiling my best girl.” He answered, when he had swallowed down the liquid.

Natasha shook her head and turned her attention back to their whiteboard. Steve followed her example and stared at the photos of their victims to date.

Three photos – three women.

The first victim had been a black-haired woman with a stern expression. Maria Hill – Fury’s left-hand woman. Steve had met her once, right when he had joined SHIELD in 1996 after leaving the army for good.

It had been a shock, when she had disappeared during a mission one month ago, only to turn up two days later at the front entrance of the triskelion – unclothed and peroxided.  That was the only time that Steve had seen Fury being in complete shock.

The second picture showed Elizabeth “Betty” Ross, daughter of Army General Thaddeus Ross, Scientist and Professor at NYC. It was an open secret among the SHIELD lab monkeys that there was no love lost between daughter and father (thanks to FitzSimmons, who had been close friends of her and liked to share the gossip occasionally).

She had disappeared exactly one week after Maria and also turned up two days later the same way as the SHIELD agent, only this time on the doorsteps of her father’s summer home in the Hamptons. The General had thrown a fit in Fury’s office, demanding that the investigation of his daughter’s death must have priority. For once, Fury had agreed, although he still had kicked the General out after.

The third and latest victim before Sharon’s disappearance was Christine Everhart, renowned New York Times journalist – known for uncovering uncomfortable truths and asking politicians inconvenient questions.

She had, literally, made the headline on the day, when her body had been found in the newsroom of the New York Times. From that day on, everyone in New Jersey and New York had known that Crossbones was haunting both states. Up until then, Fury had managed it to keep it from the press.

And now Sharon.

Time was running out. His foster cousin was already gone for almost one day. If they didn’t find her in the next twenty-four hours, her photo would get her place of honour next to the other three women.

Natasha sensed her partner’s distress and put a comforting hand on the blond’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find her. But today, it’s just me and Phil. It’s your day off, after all. And you are going to scare off your fan club and the newbies, if you walk around with that miserable expression of yours. I’ll be miserable. Phil will be miserable. The whole of SHIELD will be miserable.” She joked, attempting to cheer him up her way.

“But…” Steve started to protest.

“I want to hear no buts. Come on, Big Boy. We’re going to Hawkeyes and order some food for us. My treat. After that, you go home, watch some TV and tomorrow we’ll start anew.” she ordered.

Steve sighed and nodded silently, mumbling something like “Yes, Ma’am”. It wasn’t as if he could have said no. Once his partner had set her mind on something, it was almost impossible to change it.

Natasha found Phil in his office going over some paperwork. She talked shortly to him and let him know that they were leaving. The older man nodded and turned his attention back to his squad. The redhead linked her arm with Steve's and pulled him out of the office.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

Bucky's tea had long gone cold, when Bruce found him in a corner of the Procedure Room. The younger man was staring without blinking at the two suspension devices. It took him a while, until he noticed Bruce’s presence.

“I messed it all up, didn’t I?” Bucky whispered, not daring to look at the older scientist.

Bruce pushed his glassed up his nose and sat down next to him.

“To my utter surprise, you didn’t.” he replied. Bucky frowned and turned his head to look at Bruce.

“I don’t understand.”

Bruce chuckled quietly.

“Apparently, Maria was impressed by your little outburst. She threatened Howard with divorce, if he cut the funding. And it seems that Howard’s image as a family man is worth more than the few million dollars for Tony’s treatment. So, our research is secured for the next two years.”

The younger man’s eyes widened at Bruce's statement.

“Really?” he whispered, tears springing into his eyes. When Bruce had come to find him, he had fully expected to be fired or at last have his funding cut. Now he had two more full years to figure out how to help Tony.

Suddenly, the full weight and emotional rollercoaster of the day’s events crashed in on him. Now, together with the relief of his biggest problem being solved, Bucky started shaking. Small sobs escaped him and he curled up in a little ball of raw emotion.

Bruce put a comforting hand on Bucky's shoulder and let him cry for a bit. He didn’t let go, even when the younger man finally had calmed down. But Bucky's mind was still focused at the two apparatuses.

“I think we should try a more active approach instead of the usual way. I really want to try.” He suddenly said.

Bruce sighed.

“No. We’ve been over this more than a dozen times, Bucky. It's too dangerous.”

Bucky clenched his fists.

“And see how far it got us. We almost our funding. I just want to try it one time. A trial run, if you say so. What harm could it do?” he hissed.

“Exactly. That’s a situation I don’t want to find out.” Bruce snapped back, not in anger, but concern.

“The whole reason why it’s taking us so long, is that we’re reactive. Tony decides which game to play and which obstacles to create. And Obie controls him.”

“Still not happening.”

“Please, Bruce. Otherwise, it’d take me years to get past that kind of barrier Tony has created.” Bucky pleaded.

Bruce shook his head.

“Let’s just assume that we reverse the feed and bring Tony into your mind. Imagine what it’s like for him – suddenly to exist in a completely new work, when all, what you know and care for, is your little cave.” He tried to explain.

“But I do that all the time.” Bucky protested.

“That’s right. But you’re a willing volunteer. Tony is not. Just picture him in a strange place, alone, lost, frightened…”

“But he’d not be alone. I’d be there with him.” The younger man insisted.

“Yes, but what if he blames you for terrifying him? It could erase all what you’ve accomplished so far. Should that happen, his trust in you could might be gone for good.”

Bucky bowed his head in defeat. Of course, Bruce was right. Still, it was such a frustrating situation that he couldn’t do anything to change Tony’s situation.

“Okay, okay. Maybe you’re right.” He whispered and let his head fall back, exhaustion finally settling in. Bruce looked at him. He took out his penlight and made a move to examine Bucky’s eyes. Bucky let him, because he was too tired to argue anymore.

“It’s just…I don’t know what it will do to you. You’re already exhausted the whole time. Have you been sleeping properly?” Bruce asked carefully.

Bucky nodded.

“I mean, I can prescribe you something.” The curly-haired scientist suggested, looking at his friend with concern – professional and personal.

Bucky shook his head, signalling no. The last thing he needed right now, were more chemicals in his system. He was still working through the ones of today’s session, which always left him tired and cranky.

“You sure?” Bruce asked to make sure this was Bucky wanted.

“Yes.” Bucky all but growled.

“Fine, because we need you to be focused. That means for you to stay healthy and relaxed. So, you're going to eat regularly, maybe meditate, work out and watch stupid reality tv shows. Does that sound like a plan?”

“Yes, Pops.” Bucky teased him. Bruce chuckled and heaved himself up. He offered the younger man a helping hand, which Bucky accepted with gratitude. Bruce helped him getting up and patted his back.

“And no reading Tony’s file all night for the umpteenth time. You’ve got to leave your work here and not take it with you as if it’s a burden you have to carry.”

Bucky rolled his eyes.

“I know, Bruce. Balance is the keyword.” He repeated what his friend had said many times before.

“Alright then. Sam wants us to go to Hawkeyes. Celebrating our hard-won victory. Do you want to join in?”

“Sorry. But all I want to do is go home, take a shower, eat something and watch Big Brother with Winter.” Bucky declined Bruce’s offer.

“That’s my boy.”

Both men exited the Procedure Room and went down to the lobby, where Sam was on the phone with someone. Bucky went to him, while Bruce disappeared into the changing area to change into his civil clothes.

“…okay, see you there, Darcy-bear.” The lab technician said loudly, making some loud offending kissing noises, before he put the receiver back on the telephone.

“Oh my god, you two are so cute together. It’s disgusting!” Bucky sassed. Sam rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

“Don’t let my Darcy hear that or she’ll kick your ass.” He sassed back.

Bucky chuckled.

“You’re probably right. Anyway, I’m off. Give her my love.” He replied, patting his best friend’s back. Sam gave him a confused look.

“You’re not coming with us?”

Bucky nodded.

“You sure? We’re meeting up with Darce and Thor.” Sam tried to persuade him otherwise.

But the brunette made a gesture of refusal.

“I know you want me to be there. But this day has been more than exhausting. I just want to feed Winter and then go to bed early. And you know, how cranky Winter becomes when he doesn’t get his food on time.” He replied.

Sam shoot an honest smile at his best friend.

“Alright, I give up. Guess you deserve some quietness and relaxation. And I don’t want to be responsible if your beautiful face gets scratched by your hellcat.” He answered.

“Winter is not a hellcat. He’s just moody.” Bucky scowled, defending his beloved pet from Sam's “accusations”.

“Like owner, like cat.” Was all Sam had to say, before he ducked away from Bucky's mock-slap. The brunette glared at his friend, before he huffed and turned to head towards Tony’s room.

“I’m going to say goodnight to Tony. At least, he likes me. You three go and have fun without me!” he all but cried in mock-sulkiness. Sam laughed loudly.

“Will do!” he shouted after Bucky, before this one showed him the middle finger and disappeared into the hallway leading to the patient’s ward.

The hallway was dark at this time of the day, since most of the personnel had already gone home. Only the night nurse sat at the nurse’s station and watched Tony's room on a monitor, part of a closed-circuit television system installed in the teen’s room.

Bucky, who had fetched his bag and his blue pea-coat from the changing area before heading to Tony's room, stayed outside and watched his charge sleep through the glass window.

“Pleasant Dreams, Tony!” he whispered barely audible to him.

Only then, he turned around and said goodbye to the nurse, heading back to the lobby. Bucky watched Bruce and Sam leaving the institute and followed them outside, before finally making his way home.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

If one passed by the old, abandoned military base, he would see withered buildings, overgrown with ivy and other creepers.

No one would suspect advanced technology with in an old ammunition bunker. or a secret door with a retina scanner behind a shelf, which led down a stairwell into a secret room with a much smaller space in the centre.

It’s the Cell.

Electronic whirrs could be heard from the place in front of the Cell. The noise came from several video cameras mounted on tripods, which were directed at the non-mirrored part. Long cables at the ground led to a desk a few metres away and the massive video recorder on it – one of those types used in surveillance and therefore able to record for days. Next to it was an extravagant timing apparatus that was connected to a whole series of faucets and controllers.

Brock moved silently closer, just as he had reached the end of the stairs. His gaze, almost trance-like, was directed at the illuminated cell. Right in the middle, Sharon’s lifeless body was floating in a state of weightlessness, her blond hair casting an angel-like halo around her head. Her dead eyes stared directly at Brock.

Mesmerized by such beauty, the scar-faced man lifted his left hand and placed the palm gently on the cold glass. Just then…

Just then, Sharon’s body convulsed. Arms flailing, mouth opening and closing, eyes filled with absolute terror – a last spark of a young life that diminished quickly. The sudden movement frightened Brock. The man all but jumped back, startled and terrified.

His demeanour changed abruptly. One minute, he was fascinated by the beauty of death. The other minute, he whirled around, absolutely unable to watch at the corpse. It was as if someone had thrown a switch inside his brain. Brock’s body tensed and squirmed, as if he was in torturous pain. Brock held his head and opened his mouth in a silent scream. His features twisted in something dark and sinister, before they became normal again – the true face of Crossbones.

Just as quickly, as it had come, the tension left his body. Leaning heavily on the desk, gripping its edge tightly, Brock inhaled deep breaths, slowly, but steadily regaining his self-control again. He waited, until he was sure not to have attack again. Only then, he turned around and moved back to the cell. Sharon’s unresponsive face floated past him and Brock had to admit that she looked like an angel.

Watching her, while leaning his head against the cell window, he stared at his own reflection in this twisted version of a mirror, his lips whispering a barely audible “Hail Hydra”.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

Hawkeye’s was a cosy, little diner on the street level of the very building, in which Steve lived on the top floor. The most prominent thing about the diner was the large sign over the door, showing a bow with arrow and the name “Hawkeye’s” in large, purple capitals.

The owner was a former SHIELD agent, who had the luck to be married to a certain redheaded agent. Clint Barton had opened it after a mission gone wrong, where he not only lost seventy percent of his hearing, but also one finger on each hand – a death sentence for his sniper career at SHIELD. Since Clint refused to continue to work in SHIELD’s administration, he retired and opened the diner in his apartment building.

Over the years, “Hawkeye’s” became very popular not only with the locals, but also among the SHIELD agents. That way, Clint became fast friends with his wife’s partner Steve Rogers and his foster cousin Sharon Carter, who turned out to be the niece of former Director Carter. Soon, all them became regulars and would meet up frequently there.

Today was not different. When Natasha and Steve approached the diner, Steve could already see that it was packed. He could see Peter, Scott and Wanda, Clint's staff, whirling through the restaurant, fully packed with plates of delicious food.

Wanda and her twin brother Pietro, who was more than likely helping Clint in the kitchen, were two Sokovian orphans, taken in by the owner after his last mission in said country. Both worked in the diner to save money for CCNY, which they aimed to attend in autumn.

Outside the diner, a brown-haired girl and a huge blond man, who looked suspiciously like Thor from SHIELD’s Strike Team, were obviously waiting for company.

Natasha tucked her right arm into Steve's left, if only to prevent him from rabbiting. Steve couldn’t blame her. For a SHIELD agent, he was a terrible liar and sometimes an even greater wuss, but only when it came to his emotions. Together, they walked inside and up to the counter, where Nat’s husband was busy preparing coffee and non-alcoholic beverages.

“Hey Honey.” Natasha chirped and leaned over to give Clint a kiss on the cheek. The former sniper smiled and kissed his wife back. “Hey Dorogaya, already done for today?” he asked her, before turning to Steve. “Hey Steve!” he greeted, while preparing two black coffees for them. Steve only waved at him, not really in the mood for a conversation.

Clint’s frowned and looked at his wife. Natasha sighed.

“Unfortunately, I have to get back. I’m just making sure that Steve gets his much-needed comfort food to take home with him.” She explained.

Clint raised a questioning eyebrow. Natasha put one hand on her husband’s and began to tap something very quickly in Morse – her way to communicate with her husband about work in public. She could hardly talk loudly about serial killers, after all. So, she told her husband this way. Needless to say that Clint was just as shocked as she was. But he masked it well enough, still benefiting from his training.

“So, the usual to go?” he asked the blond man. Steve just nodded silently and turned around to watch what’s going on the street. The girl and the Thor doppelganger were still waiting and talking enthusiastically.

“Make that two, hon. And maybe something for the guys at work. I’m afraid that this going to be a long night.” Natasha added. Clint smirked and saluted her.

“Of course, dear. Give me a few and I’m back.” He answered, before he disappeared in his kitchen. Nat looked after him, before she took a sip of her coffee and also turned to see who or what her friend was looking at.

“He looks a lot like Thor, don’t you think?” she spoke out, what Steve was thinking. Of course, she knew the STRIKE team leader. Everyone in SHIELD knew him. Mountain of a man; spoke like a goddamn Viking; always happy. Fury always grumbled, when they had to work together, because he found Thor way too cheerful for the job, no matter how competent the man was.

“Hmmm….” Steve hummed and took another swallow from his cup.

In the meantime, the man and the girl had gotten company. A petite, chestnut-haired woman embraced first the girl and then threw herself into the hunk’s arms, kissing him deeply. A black man did the same with the girl. The third new arrival, an older man with glasses and a curled mop of hair, stayed aside, while the couples finished their exchanges of affection.

“Somehow, I envy them. Sometimes, I wish I could find someone to share my life with.” Steve unexpectedly said. Natasha glanced at her best friend. He looked so…lost. And lonely.

“You know, I can always set you up with some nice girl from HR.” she suggested. “…or some nice boy!” she continued, when Steve sighed, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes at her.

“Nat, no….” he started. Just then, the kitchen door was thrown open and Clint returned with two takeaway bags, a smaller and a bigger one, and put it on the counter.

“Alright, then. Two double cheeseburgers and double fries for Steve. Two chicken wraps and fries for my dorogaya. And I have thrown in an apple pie and two dozen triple chocolate cookies and lemon crinkles for starving and depressed SHIELD agents. It’s on the house.” He stated. Natasha shook her head, but took both bags. She planted a loud kiss on his cheek.

“Thanks, hon. SHIELD will only survive because of your generosity.” She sassed. Clint only rolled his eyes and made a shooing motion at them.

“Shoo. Off with you, before I change my mind.” He grumbled and headed back into his domain. Natasha laughed loudly and grabbed Steve's arm with her free hand, pulling him with her. Just as they were about to leave the diner, the group of five were about to step in. Both groups almost collided with each other, if it weren’t for Natasha's and Steve's quick reflexes.

As soon as they were outside again, the redheaded agent pushed the smaller bag in Steve's hand.

“So, now go upstairs, relax and clear your head, Steve. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She said, pulling him into a hug and kissing his cheek. “Don’t worry, we’ll find her.” Natasha let go of him and turned away from him. She waved at him, before she crossed the street and headed towards the direction of the Triskelion.

Steve briefly wondered, what he had done to deserve such a friend like Natasha. He had probably done something right in a former life. As usual, Natasha was right. He’d go, curl up on his couch, eat his food, maybe take a look at his old photo albums and collect his strength.

Tomorrow, he’d go to work and find Sharon.

Now, if that didn’t sound like a plan.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

**Chapter 4**

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Red Hook, Brooklyn.

Bucky took a cab from the Institute to Red Hook, taking his usual route via the FDR Drive, because this was the fastest route for him. Here, right at the East River, he owned a condo with private rooftop garden in one of the New York Dock Buildings.  Maria had gifted it to him for his hard work with Tony, although he had felt that it was way too much for the few sessions a week. Still, he had grown to love it, because the view at the water was stunning.

Bucky entered the building, after paying his cabbie, and made his way up to the second floor where his spacious condo was. He opened his front door and was immediately attacked by a black shadow with four very sharp claws.

“Hey, hey. I’m here, Zima.” He cradled the dark feline close to his chest and stroke his silky fur. Winter let out that vibrant purr of his, the one that straight through Bucky's soul, before he wriggled himself free and ran towards the open kitchen. Bucky took the hint. He closed the door behind him, locking it properly, and hung his coat on a hook of the coat rack. Then he followed his pet into the open kitchen, where the male cat was scowling at something.

Noticing the empty bowls, he sighed. “You're really insatiable!” Bucky stated, but took the two bowls and put them in the dishwasher. Then he took two clean ones out of the cupboard and filled one with water and the other with some leftover meat from the day before. At the same time, he took out a casserole dish with half a lasagne and put it into his microwave. He placed Winter’s food on the floor and then strode into his living room – or at least that’s what Bucky called it.

The place was a mess. Computer print-outs, dirty dishes, unopened mail, videotapes, and notepads covered tables, chairs and floor of the living space. On the crammed bookshelves, psychology texts sat next to several volumes on mythology, religion, and Engineering.

Yet, Bucky still found a spot on the couch to sit on. And Winter didn’t exactly care about the mess, as long as he got his food on time. But first, he really needed a shower. He got rid of all his clothes except for his underwear. Just then he walked over and turned it up – a move which he bitterly regretted, as soon as he heard the first tune.

“ _Who let the dogs out? (woof, woof, woof, woof); Who let the dogs out?_

_(woof, woof, woof, woof);_

_Who let the dogs out? (woof, woof, woof, woof); Who let the dogs out? (woof, woof, woof, woof).”_ The Baha Men bawled.

Bucky screamed in horror.

“Fuck!” he cursed, while Winter hissed angrily at the speakers. He had to agree with Winter. He hated that song like the pest. He dived for the remote and pressed a button on it to look for a better station. Only that the next song wasn’t an improvement.

“ _I'm blue da ba dee da ba daa Da ba dee da ba daa, da ba dee da ba daa, da ba dee da ba daa Da ba dee da ba daa, da ba dee da ba daa, da ba dee da ba daa._

 _I'm blue da ba dee da ba daa Da ba dee da ba daa, da ba dee da ba daa, da ba dee da ba daa Da ba dee da ba daa, da ba dee da ba daa, da ba dee da ba daa.”_ Eiffel 65 babbled.

Winter’s mad hisses became louder with each passing second and Bucky pushed the button anew. He groaned, when he heard the song. Winter had enough and fled into Bucky's sanctuary, the bedroom.

“ _Oops, I did it again._

_I played with your heart, got lost in the game._

_Oh baby, baby._

_Oops, you think I'm in love._

_That I'm sent from above._

_I'm not that innocent.”_ Britney sang on top of her voice.

“Sometimes, I think that Y2K has killed everyone’s taste in music, since it couldn’t kill the worldwide computer systems.” Bucky grumbled under his breath. Then he switched to his favourite rock station, hoping for some decent music at last. Crossing his fingers, he held his breath and pushed the button on the remote.

“ _This ain't a song for the broken-hearted_

_No silent prayer for the faith-departed_

_I ain't gonna be just a face in the crowd_

_You're gonna hear my voice_

_When I shout it out loud:_ ”

Jon’s unique voice calmed Bucky down enough. He got up and stripped down his underwear. Just before he retreated to the bathroom, he looked at a torn-out page lying on one of his books.

It was the picture of a demon, completely dressed in black leather, his lower face covered by a half-mask. Bucky didn’t know why felt this way, but the demon’s red eyes seemed to stare right into his soul. Maybe it was, because the picture represented his own demons.

Bucky pressed his lips together and walked on.

“ _It's my life._

_It's now or never._

_I ain't gonna live forever._

_I just want to live while I'm alive._

_(It's my life)_

_My heart is like an open highway._

_Like Frankie said,_

_I did it my way._

_I just wanna live while I'm alive._

_It's my life._ ”

Stepping into the shower, Bucky turned on the water. Ice-cold water sprayed from the showerhead, making Bucky flinch at the first contact with his overheated skin.

All in all, it had been an okay day. He had his session with Tony, had snapped at Howard, which had been very satisfying, and still gotten their funding for the next two years. It could have been worse.

Now, he needed some well-earned rest, something to eat and a cuddle session. While contemplating his life choices, he drowned himself in cold water, trying to wash away his “sins”. The cold liquid ran down Bucky’s body, only to disappear into the drain…

Down the pipes...

Into the sewers…

Into the blue…

 

Blue like the water in the cell that held Sharon’s body captive.

Blue like the water that ran through rusty pipes, ending up on a green meadow close to an old ammunition bunker, as Rumlow drained the cell.

Blue like Sharon's lifeless eyes, which stared accusingly at Rumlow, as she laid completely drenched on the bottom of her prison, her tattoos shining wetly in the semi-darkness.

The killer looked down at his victim, before he whistled. Johann whined and ran slowly towards one of the corners, returning with a grey tarpaulin between his teeth. Rumlow took it from him and spread it out on the floor. Then he lifted Sharon's corpse and put it in the middle of the canvas sheet, before he carefully wrapped her in the oilcloth.

After that, he removed the tiny surveillance tapes from their place in the video recorder and put them in his jacket pocket, before he picked up the tarpaulin-wrapped bundle and made his way up.

Outside, he put the covered corpse on the truck bed and put another sheet on top. Then, Brock opened the passenger door and whistled. Johann barked and hopped into the passenger’s seat. Brock closed the door shut and took his place into the driver’s seat. Starting the engine, he put the car in first gear and stepped on the gas.

After opening and closing the fence once again, his pick-up truck made its way back to the city that never slept.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

Bucky emerged from his shower completely drenched and just wearing a towel around his hips. The stereo was playing Papa Roach’s “Last Resort”, while he wandered over to the microwave and pushed a few buttons to warm up the leftover lasagne.

“ _Cut my life into pieces_

_This is my last resort_

_Suffocation_

_No breathing_.”

While his dinner was heated up, Bucky searched the living room for a clean shirt and pair of boxer shorts. He found, what he was looking for, behind the couch, and put it on. Sighing, he put them on and sat down on his favourite spot on the couch, which was surprisingly empty. Bucky looked around. Yup, he should definitely clean up his place once in a while.

“ _Don't give a fuck if I cut my arm, bleeding_

_This is my last resort_

_Cut my life into pieces_

_I've reached my last resort_

_Suffocation_

_No breathing_

_Don't give a fuck if I cut my arm, bleeding_

_Do you even care if I die bleeding?_

_Would it be wrong?_ ”

But it wasn’t that easy. Cleaning up was a task, which was difficult for him, even though it shouldn’t be. But the mess in Bucky's living room also represented the sometimes-occurring mess in his head, which always took an eternity to clear up.

“ _Would it be right?_

_If I took my life tonight_

_Chances are that I might_

_Mutilation out of sight_.”

A loud “Ding” from the microwave announced the end of the heating process. Bucky heaved himself up, turned off the radio and walked back to the kitchen, taking the dish out of the kitchen equipment. He placed the steaming food on a plate and grabbed a fork and a cold beer from the fridge, before heading towards his bedroom.

He put his plate and beer on the nightstand, before he slid under the duvet, careful not to disturb the already dozing Winter. After switching on the TV, he switched to the History Channel and a documentary about the famous Howling Commandos, a WWII Special Unit. While he ate his lasagna, occasionally taking a sip of beer, he felt a bone-deep weariness settling in.

When Bucky was finished, he simply put everything on his nightstand. Winter joined him, taking his favourite place in Bucky's lap. His eyelids became heavier and heavier. He must have been very tired, because the folds in his dark-red comforter suddenly seemed so…sandy.

_No, something wasn’t right. Folds weren’t supposed to be sandy._

_But dunes were._

_Red dunes._

_He was in the desert again._

_Tony's desert._

_He was flying across the red dunes in Tony's mind, feeling so carefree. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt in a while, and it was so beautiful. He flew to the well-known mountain range and landed in front of Tony's cave._ _Carefully, he entered the cave, walking through the tunnel into the main cave, where Tony's workshop was._

_Strangely, it was deserted. “Tony!” he called the Teen. But he received no answer._

_“Tony. Are you alright?” he repeated his question. Again, he got no response._

_Suddenly, he heard a strange rustling noise, coming from one of the dark corners. Cautiously, he walked slowly towards the source of the noise and saw movement and then a shadow standing there. Believing it to be Tony, he relaxed and approached the shadow with a smile._

_“There you are. I…” he stopped, as the shady figure turned around as fast as lightning and the bald, bearded face of Obadiah sneered at him. Before he could react, a strong hand shot forwards and wrapped itself around his neck, lifting him up in the air easily and squeezing every little oxygen molecule out of his system._

_Breathing became difficult, since his blood oxygen saturation dropped dangerously and his CO_ _2_ _levels rose instead, creating an acid environment in his bloodstream and his brain because of the increased amounts of hydrogen ions._

_His instinct to breathe kicked in. He really wanted to, but he simply couldn’t._

_He wanted to fight back. But just like the breathing, he had no energy left to do so._

_His heart was playing a continued heavy metal drum solo and suddenly, an indescribable pain flashed through his brain. He opened his mouth in a silent scream, before lights started to dance in front of his eyes and the world became slowly dark._

_Forever dark._

Bucky jerked out of his dream, breathing heavily, his heart still playing a heavy metal drum solo. Outside, the world was lightened up by the sheer beauty of lightnings that raced across the clouded night sky.

Rain drummed against his windows, occasionally interrupted by the sound of thunder.

Bucky touched his neck. He still felt the pressure of Obadiah’s strong grip there, although he knew that it hadn’t been real.

On his lap, Winter sensed his owner’s distress and snuggled closer to him, letting out a calming purr. Bucky bit back the sob that threatened to burst out of him. He stroked Winter’s silky fur, until he finally fell into a dreamless sleep.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

Somewhere in NYC.

Like every morning, Johann woke up on his place at the foot of his Master’s bed. The Shepherd yawned and looked up to see if his Master was already up. According to his empty bed, he was. The dog yawned again and then got up, trotting along well-known paths through his Master’s house.

He could find him neither in the living room nor the kitchen. Ignoring the food, which his master had prepared for him, he slipped through the built-in dog door in the door next to the kitchen. Stairs led downstairs to a vast subterranean area, where his Master always prepared his projects.

Most of the room’s walls had been knocked down, so that only the thick support posts had remained. Johann trotted down another pair of stairs down through an open floor hatch, which was normally hidden from view. It led to another underground room, which turned out to be some kind of laboratory.

In one corner was a burning fireplace that was connected to the house’s chimney. A branding iron laid amid the fire inferno, waiting to be used. In the opposite corner was a large iron tub. Around it, several empty canisters, which once consisted bleach, were lying, its contents now in the tub.

Right there in the bath tub swam the nude corpse of Sharon Carter, making it look like she was floating through clouds. White flesh, white-blond hair, white ethereal eyes that stared into nothingness. She already had been pale, when she had still been alive. But now, after her bleach bath, she really looked like a ghost.

Opposite to the stairs was a surveillance system similar to the one in Camp Lehigh.

But the heart of the room was the polished stainless table right in the middle with only a work light above it. However, the most disturbing thing was a customized mechanical hoist above the steel table. There were a lot of chains, hooks and cables and basically looked like a Dom’s wet dream come true.

Johann made his way over to his Master, who wore a green plastic apron and elbow-length gloves in the same colour. Johann whined and rubbed his head against his Master’s knee. His Master scratched his head lovingly, before he let out a loud whistle. Obediently, Johann retreated to a large Kennel Cage, where two bowls were waiting for him. His Master gave him his favourite chew toy, a red squishy thing with lots of long and thin body parts, before he locked the door of the cage.

Johann began to play with it, while watching his Master do his important work.

After locking up Johann, Brock once again focused on his work. He pulled out the plug of the tub and watched the peroxide ran down the drain to a tank, which could be emptied later, until nothing more than the dead woman remained.

Brock picked her up and brought her to the steel table, which was covered with a plastic sheet, and laid her gently down. From his utility table next to the tub, he took a reel of disposable towels and started to clean her.

The act of cleaning itself seemed unusually sensual for someone like him. Carefully, he wiped away the leftover peroxide, following every curve of her body. The light shining against the polished table made her look like an apparition. His gloved fingers traced the now faded tattoos, envying the artist who had made them. His own tattoo was a little less…detailed, but it held more importance.

When Brock was done with cleaning, he took a moment to admire his work. She was really a beauty. His best work until now. There was only one thing he still had to do.

He grabbed the remote from the video system and put on a free spot on the table. Then he rotated the table through 90°, so that he and the woman faced the monitor of the surveillance system. After that, he stripped out of his clothes and laid them on the utility table.

Brock stretched his bare, muscular frame and stepped back into the harsh light, revealing a disturbing sight of his back.

On his well-built back was the rough tattoo of a skulled octopus. The head, the skull of an octopus, started right under the hairline and covered one third of Brock's back. The lower part consisted of eight tentacle-like arms leading away from the skull - some of them playing with his back muscles and some not.

But each arm led to some sort of morbid extreme piercing. Eight thick and strong metal rings were pierced through Brock's flesh in two columns of four on either side of the spine, running down from the shoulder blades to the waist. It was a scarily beautiful sight.

Brock turned off the light and pressed a button on the remote. One of the surveillance tapes began to play, showing Sharon in her cell. Although Brock knew that the woman had been a SHIELD agent and former Director Carter’ niece, it mesmerized him to no end to see the tiny spark of fear in her eyes, while she tried in vain to escape her watery fate.

He ignored the strong spark of arousal inside his lower regions and fast-forwarded to the point, where the cell was almost completely filled with water and the woman was already dancing with death. He watched her struggle, his breath quickening, as the spark inside him grew into something more.

If he was a normal human being, he’d use this for the sole purpose of sexual relief. But then, he wasn’t ordinary. He was Crossbones, one of many heads of Hydra, and he had to finish this ritual.

Brock climbed on the steel table, the woman’s legs between his. He grabbed a bundle of eight chains that hung from the ceiling, bizarre hooks attached at the end. With horrifyingly skilled expertise, he attached the hooks to each of the metal rings.

Then, he pressed the button of a remote unit and up there, in the beams, a mechanism clicked into motion. There was a shrill, torturous noise sounding through the hidden room, as the hoist pulled Brock up in the air, the strain on his pierced flesh enormous.

He grimaced at the sheer amount of pain, but it was a good sign. Pain was good. The chaos out there in the world could only be corrected through order and order only came through pain.

At the same time, while Brock was lifted upwards, another set of chains was lowered down, covering Brock's legs entirely, until he looked like a bizarre hybrid of Human and Octopus.

Once Brock had stopped the hoist and was in the right position, he turned his attention back to the flickering TV screen. He set Sharon’s death struggle on continuous loop and took a deep breath.

The change was imminent. Brock closed his eyes and Crossbones opened them again. The killer smirked darkly at the sight underneath him and in front of him. As usual, Brock had done his work very well.

In the flickering light of the tv screen, Crossbones finally lived up to his name. Right now, in that position, he looked like a predatory octopus ascending on his next kill, bringing order into the world through self-inflicted pain as part of his self-imposed flagellation.

 

Later, when order and pain had been delivered, there was only one last thing to do, before he presented his newest message to the city.

Crossbones took the burning hot branding iron from its place in the fireside and walked over to the dead woman. He pressed it on the spot above the navel and smiled, when the stench of burnt flesh filled up the room.

It was done. He had signed his name and all would see it.

He was Hydra and he was Crossbones, the skull-headed octopus with crossed bones. And he would prevail.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

**Chapter 5**

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

Natasha was a creature of habit.

Ever since joining SHIELD ten years ago, she had started running first thing in the morning. At first all by herself, later together with her husband and even Steve. Every morning at five a.m., they’d take a cab or walk over to Battery Park and run the 14,31 kilometres along the Hudson River Greenway until the George-Washington-Bridge, enjoying the view while trying to outrun each other. There, they’d share a cab or take the subway back to Battery Park.

Today was no different. Although the redheaded agent had come home late the night before and practically fallen into a coma next to Clint, her faithful had woken her up with a smile and a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

After inhaling her first caffeine fix for the day, she changed into a pair of black leggings, black running shoes with red accents, a black top and a black, light jacket with an embroidered red hourglass emblem on the back. That way, she could take her badge and a concealed weapon with her.

Clint was already waiting for at the front door, wearing a similar ensemble, only in purple and with an arrow emblem on the back of his jacket. Natasha raised a questioning eyebrow at her husband’s debatable choice of colour, but knew better than to question it.

“Ready to go, Dorogaya?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows and jingling his keys. Natasha shook her head.

“You don’t have to ask, honey. Come on then, I don’t have all day.” She replied. Both headed out of their apartment, which was one floor below Steve's, and made their way downstairs. There, they hopped into their private car and drove all the way over to Brooklyn Bridge. Crossing the East River, they took then the FDR Drive towards the Financial District, heading for their regular parking garage on Pearl Street.

Once safely parked, Clint and Natasha headed towards Battery Park, where they started their run. At this time of the day, only a few early risers frequented the way, either running upwards just like them or coming from the other side.

Both enjoyed their run, their shoed feet making thumping sounds on the   and tried occasionally to outrun each other – a game that both loved very much. But in reality, it was just the time spent together that made their daily routine special. With Natasha's and Clint's different work schedules, they often didn’t see each other during the day. So, the mornings and the evenings only belonged to them.

After nearly an hour, Natasha saw finally their destination. Only a few more minutes and they’d have made it for today.

“What do you think about some breakfast and coffee, before we head back?” Clint shouted from behind. Natasha chuckled.

“Sounds good.” She shouted back, before looking forward again. The George-Washington-Bridge enthroned in front of her in all her glory. Natasha could already see their exit that led slightly upwards to the 178th, shortly before the bridge began.

Just then, the high-pitched scream of a woman rang out through the morning traffic and suddenly, all plans of a joint breakfast evaporated into thin air like the fumes from a car’s exhaust. With her trained instincts kicking in, Natasha and Clint raced towards the direction the scream had come from.

Right under the bridge, a middle-aged Asian woman, wearing a bright red jogging suit, was standing there with her back facing them. She seemed to be looking at something…white? That could only mean one thing.

A shiver ran down Natasha's spine and she ran even faster, reaching the woman in no time. Taking out her badge, she showed it to the woman, before asking her:

“I’m Agent Romanoff of SHIELD. What happened?” she asked.

The woman was shaking and close to tears. Still, she managed to lift one hand and point at the white figure laying on the ground a few metres away. Natasha's hand slipped into her right jacket pocket and pulled out a small gun. Gripping it tightly, she signalled her husband to take care of the woman, before she approached the form.

A small gasp escaped her lips and she dropped the hand holding gun, when she recognized the figure.

Right in the middle of the way under the bridge, her now white-blond hair draped around her head like a halo, lay the nude corpse of Sharon Carter, her ghostly eyes staring at the George’s substructure.

Natasha covered her mouth with her free hand to stop the sob, which was building up inside her, from escaping. However, it didn’t stop the few tears that were leaking from her grass-green eyes.

Natasha took a deep breath and put her gun back into her pocket. Then she turned around and walked back to the spot, where not only Clint and the woman were now waiting, but additionally the first onlookers.

“I need the phone, Clint.” She said in a shaky voice. Clint frowned, but gave her the mobile, which he had in his pocket.

“Is that…?” he started, but dared not to speak out the rest.

Natasha just nodded.

“Shit!” the blond man cursed.

Natasha dialled a certain number and waited for the other side to pick up. It didn’t take long, until her call was connected.

“Phil, it's me. We need the full squad here under the George…” The redhead paused for a moment, trying to get a grip on her boiling emotions. “Phil, it’s her. Please don’t tell Steve yet. That’s my duty.” Natasha said quietly, listening to Phil’s shocked reply before continuing. “Thanks, Phil. See you in thirty.”

She looked back, where her dead friend was lying as part of a disturbing art show.

This was going to kill Steve.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

After a rather sleepless night, Steve turned up at work early, bringing a stack of coffee for himself, Nat, Fury, Phil and his squad with him, which was received with a relieved and grateful sigh. Apparently, most of them had worked through the night to find more about Sharon’s whereabouts.

Natasha wasn’t in their shared office, which meant that she was probably doing her morning run with Clint and would come in later. Steve sat down with a sigh and stared at the whiteboard. Where could Sharon be? Where?

Suddenly, there was a commotion outside in the hallway. Frowning, the blond popped his head out to see what’s happening.

“Phil, what’s going on?” he asked the older Agent, who seems to be in a hurry. In the back, he could see Fitz and Simmons pack up their things, while Daisy, or rather Skye, Phil's pet hacker, put her laptop into her laptop bag.

The older Agent’s eyes nearly popped out of his sockets, when he saw Steve standing there – an action, which Steve had, unfortunately, gotten used to. But within the next seconds, something flickered over Phil’s face and his expression became impassive again. Steve found it strange, but choose not to ask further for now.

“Oh, Steve. Good that you're here. We just got a call. A jogger found a body in Washington Heights right under the George.” he explained. Steve froze, a sudden coldness spreading out from inside his core. He stepped out into the hallway and looked at Phil.

“Is it her?” he asked, not really wanting to hear an answer.

Phil gulped. He hated it to keep something from his idol, but he had promised Natasha.

“We don’t know yet. But Natasha made the call. Apparently, she and Clint were shortly before the end of their morning run, when the corpse was discovered. You can ask her herself.” He replied.

Steve frowned. Natasha was already? Although…right, the GWB was the exit point of her preferred running route. It would make sense that she would stay there to oversee the situation.

“Alright, then let’s go.” He sighed, closing his office door behind. Phil nodded. Together they headed downstairs to the waiting SUV’s, where Fury was already impatiently waiting in the backseat of the first vehicle for them.

“You really take your time.” He stressed out, tapping his fingers on his knees. Steve ignored him and sat down in the passenger’s seat, while Phil took his place behind the wheel.

The black SUV’s engines were started and all but raced out on the streets with wailing sirens and flashing blue lights.

 

Just like Natasha had said, it took them about thirty minutes to arrive at the scene. Cops from the local precinct cordoned off the crime scene to keep the onlookers in check, but Steve could spot Nat’s red mop of hair from far away. She was talking to Clint and an Asian-looking woman in a typical white disposable overall, holding a large suitcase. That must be Dr. Helen Cho, their new ME, since their old one, Dr. Stan Lee, had just retired.

The SUV’s came to a halt and the Agents got out of the car. Behind them, Skye and FitzSimmons got of theirs, gripping their equipment tightly. While they walked towards the police line, Dr. Cho took the small way down to the Riverway and then headed for the place under the bridge.

Steve got more and more nervous, the closer they got to Natasha. Was it Sharon or just another body? He really hoped that it was the latter.

When Nat spotted her colleagues, she waved them over. A female cop held up the line for them, when they showed their badges. While Phil and his squaddies followed Dr. Cho, Steve and Fury stopped to discover the state of things.

“So, what’s the status, Romanoff?” Fury demanded to know.

“Clint and I were at the end of our run, when we heard a scream. The woman over there…” Natasha pointed at the jogger, who had found the body, and who was now seated in the back of an ambulance, looking visibly shaken. “A Mrs. May. She found the body. Then I called Phil and Helen. You know the rest.” She explained to Fury, who nodded understandingly.

“Already got a name on the victim?” he asked further, his intense gaze not only drilling holes into Natasha, but also Steve, who looked suddenly very anxious.

The redheaded woman pressed her lips together. Her eyes locked with Steve’s and the blond Agent felt unexpectedly very dizzy. For a long moment of silence, Natasha said nothing, before she said in a for her unusual quiet voice:

“It’s Sharon.”

Steve found it funny, how three little words had the power to completely shatter his entire world. Suddenly, everything seemed to spin around him and he had to hold on to the nearest thing in order not to fall to the ground. In his case, it was Natasha's strong grip that held him steady.

His breathing quickened audibly and if his best friend hadn’t told him to breathe in and out steady, he’d have fainted on the spot.

“I need to see her.” He insisted quietly.

“Of course. Come on.” Natasha stressed out, pulling Steve with her and sending a warning glare to Fury. The black SHIELD Director just rolled his eyes and muttered something about sentiments, before following them in a safe distance.

Both Agents slowly walked down the path to the Riverway. Steve felt like he was on his way to his execution, even though he was not. But seeing his friends, his colleagues, doing their daily work, especially where it concerned one of their own – he’d never get used to this kind of situation.

Dr. Cho was examining the ethereal-looking body, while Jemma took photos of Sharon's mortal shell. Phil and Leo watched them, as did Nat and Steve, who clenched his fists so tightly that the redheaded woman really thought he was trying to break his hands. She put a comforting hand on her best friend’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry it had to happen like this.” She whispered, just knowing how much Steve was hurting right now, although he didn’t show it.

Steve didn’t answer. He stepped closer, careful not to disturb his colleagues, and looked at his foster-cousin. She looks even paler in death than she had been in life. Her tattoos were faded now because of the obvious bleach treatment, her fragile beauty barely visible anymore. Steve still could remember, how often Sharon had to laugh, when he had painted them on her, just because the hairs of the brush had tickled her so much.

Gods, how should he tell Peggy that he couldn’t save her beloved angel? That Sharon would never share their apartment with her again? Peering over the edge of the crime scene, he wondered briefly, if Crossbones was sitting in his car right now and watching them sweat, as they tried to unravel the mystery of his existence and the reason why he did the things he did. Was it the green pick-up truck, which drove away from the 178th towards the City College? Or the white SUV waiting for the GWB to be opened again? Maybe he was on one of the boats and laughed about their stupidity.

Natasha squeezed Steve’s shoulder, noticing his unfocused stare that always went into nothingness.

“Come, Steve. There’s nothing we can do now. Let them do their work and we can compare the results later.”

Steve stared at his dead cousin again, barely able to control the strong urge to break down and cry for a life lost. But Natasha was right. He needed to be strong right now. Later, after he had told Peggy, he could cry.

The blond Agent nodded and followed his best friend back up to the streets.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

It was after ten, when Bucky finally entered the Institute’s lobby with a large cup of coffee his hand. The way to work had been hellish this morning. There had been a traffic jam on the FDR Drive because of a convoy of black blue-light vehicles, which seemed to take the streets for granted. He wondered what had happened. because whenever he saw a vehicle like this, may it be fire rescue, police or someone with special rights, then something bad had happened.

Only when his driver had switched on the radio, the radio host had announced that the GWB had been closed on the Manhattan side because of a major SHIELD operation. Bucky wasn’t really surprised. At this time of the day, half of New York, mostly employees just like him, were heading to work and the George was a major traffic junction between Manhattan and New Jersey. No wonder that there was such a traffic jam. And probably not only there.

It was no wonder that he was in a hurry, when his cab finally reached the Institute, and so almost collided with a young brunette and busty woman with long chestnut hair and a pair of fashionable red, rectangular glasses, who was joking with Sam. She let out a surprised squeak, when Bucky grazed her butt.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Darce. I didn’t notice you.” Bucky apologized, feeling himself flushing in embarrassment.

Darcy fake-huffed.

“You're lucky that I know you’re not interested in my sex. Otherwise, you’d probably have to fight Sammy for my hand.” she winked at him cheekily. Bucky flushed again, knowing that she was absolutely right.

Darcy giggled and pecked his cheek, before she did the same with Sam, who clutched two Tupperware containers in his hands.

“Sorry, but I gotta go. I have a class in twenty-five minutes and Professor Selvig is going to kill me, if I’m late again. Bye Bucky, bye Sammy. Don’t forget to pick me up for lunch!” she rambled, gave the technician a quick goodbye kiss and waved at both men, before she all but ran outside.

Luckily, her campus was right next to the Institute, since it officially was a part of the City College of New York.

Sam sighed happily.

“You know what, Buck? I’m a really lucky man, having her as my fiancé.” He gushed. Bucky chuckled.

“Can’t blame you. You’re lucky that she’s not my type.”

Sam chuckled.

“You mean tall, packed, blonde, blue eyes and not female?” he teased his bestie.

Bucky mock-punched him in the shoulder.

“Exactly.” He hissed. Sam shook his head.

“Come on, let’s get to work. Tony is waiting for your visit.” He said and started to walk towards the changing area.

Bucky shook his head, but followed his best friend without any complains. He couldn’t wait to see if he could kick Obie's ass today.

Darcy hurried out of the Institute, her eyes glued to her red swatch. Twenty-two minutes until her class. Somehow, their whole day had started out very wrong. First, they had woken up too late. Then they had barely avoided the traffic jam, because something had happened at the George. Hopefully, Professor Selvig was late, too, since he resided in Fort Lee.

So, the young woman made her way towards the College campus, not noticing the green pick-up truck, which followed her at a safe distance.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

After presenting his newest message to the city, Brock had opened the letter, which he had found yesterday in his mailbox. Just like so many other letters before, it only contained an address, a date and a picture of his next project.

He waited in his car, until he heard a scream. Satisfied, he started his car and then he made his way south. It didn’t take him long to reach his destination.

While he waited for his target to appear, he tuned in to his favourite radio station – Radio H.Y.D.R.A. with its most prominent host, Alexander Pierce. Brock adored him. The man didn’t mince his words, always said the right things.

“ _Disorder, war. It's just a matter of time before a dirty bomb goes off in Moscow, or an EMP fries Chicago. Diplomacy? Holding action, a band-aid. And you all know where I learned that; Bogota. You don’t ask, you just do what has to be done. We can bring order to the lives of over six billion people by sacrificing one percent. It's the next step, if you have the courage to take it.”_ Pierce thundered.

Brock breathed in the words, as if they were his life blood. In a certain way, they were. Someone needed to bring the order to the people. He and his brethren were the Chosen Ones that executed the orders.

 _"Your work has been a gift to mankind, Chosen Ones. You shaped the beginning of the new century. And I need you to do it time and time again. Society's at a tipping point between order and chaos. And through Project Insight, we're going to give it a push. But, if you don't do your part, I can't do mine. And HYDRA can't give the world the freedom it deserves."_ Pierce preached further.

“I will do it.” Brock whispered, his eyes staring at the street, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

 _“Hail Hydra.”_ Suddenly Pierce’s voice morphed into a heavily accented one, stirring up memories from a past long ago – the round, sadistic, glasses wearing face, which always seemed appear in his mind. His breathing quickened. Next to him, Johann whined, when he felt his master’s distress.

Brock closed his eyes for a moment and laid his hand on Johann’s warm and fluffy head. He didn’t need this right now. Not when he was busy with work. Finally, his breathing became more regular and the darkness inside him was contained once more.

Suddenly, he spotted movement in the corner of his eyes. A young woman in her twenties walked at a stately pace towards the already empty campus. One look at the paper in his hands confirmed that she was indeed his next target.

Brock leaned over and opened the passenger’s door, leaving it ajar, before he whistled a command. Johann looked at him, panting, before he slipped through the crack and followed the woman on the campus. Brock waited a moment, before he got out of his car and followed his dog at a safe distance.

 

Darcy was really relieved, when the impressive façade of Shepard Hall finally came into view. Now she only had to cross St. Nicholas Park, until she could use the Marshak Science Building as a shortcut to the NAC, the North Academic Centre, where her Political Science Department was located.

As she had expected, not a single soul was on the streets or in the park itself. She looked at her Swatch again. Fifteen minutes. She was running out of time, but with a tiny quench of luck, she’d made it. Assuming that nothing unforeseen came up in the meantime.

Suddenly, something big bumped into her from behind, so that she lost her balance and fell to the ground. Her first thought was like “Oh my god, I’m getting mugged.”. Anger flared up inside her and Darcy looked up, ready to punch her pursuer. She may be a woman, but no one had the right to assault her.

However, said anger promptly evaporated, when she discovered, who exactly her pursuer was. It was not a woman or a dark-looking man, but a beautiful German Shepherd with sparkling red-pinkish eyes and fur as white as snow. Darcy couldn’t help but squeal at the stunning animal.

“Did you this, buddy?” she asked him in a scolding voice. The dog whined and lowered his head in shame. Darcy found it adorable. She heaved herself and knelt in front of the Shepherd, raising her right arm to stroke the soft fur. He seemed to enjoy it, since he come closer and rubbed his head against her knee.

Darcy laughed.

“Are you trying to make for something?” she teased the canine, petting him further. The animal looked at her with his strange eyes and Darcy couldn’t help but being fascinated by them. She had never seen an Albino shepherd before. But just because he was lacking pigments, didn’t mean that he was a lesser animal. She wondered, if he had problems with his vision, too, since that often happened to humans.

But the way he looked at her, convinced her that this didn’t seem to be case.

“So, where’s your owner, buddy? You can’t wander around like this.” She said and got ready to stand up. Just then, something hard hit her back. Darcy cried out in pain and tried to shield her head with her hands, while she fell on her knees again. Whatever or whoever had hit her, stroke again, hitting her back again. Only that this time thousands of volts raced through her, making her nerve endings itch and her heart playing a Death Metal drums solo.

For a minute, she stayed like this. Then, black spots appeared at the edge of her vision and before she knew, she collapsed on the path in the park.

Brock switched off his stun baton and collapsed it before putting it in the back pocket of his jeans.

“Good work, Johann!” he praised his dog, scratching his ears. The dog whined, enjoying the ministrations of his Master.

Brock then looked at the woman, before he picked her up, as if she weighed nothing. Catching her in broad daylight had been a risk. But if someone would ask why he was carrying her like this, he could always say that he was getting her to the nearest hospital.

But no one stopped them. When he reached his pick-up truck, he placed her on the truck bed and covered her with the oil-cloth, which was always there.

Just then, he drove all the way down to Lincoln Tunnel and so crossed the Hudson on his way back to New Jersey.

Back to Camp Lehigh.

Back to the Cell.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

Two hours later, Steve found himself sitting in a booth in Clint’s diner, nursing his third coffee, while the owner readied himself and his staff for the oncoming noon rush. Which also meant that he made Steve his favourite breakfast to cheer him up, while Nat had gone upstairs to take a quick shower and change into one of her pantsuits.

After leaving the scene, Fury had taken over and told them to wait them here, until he had the temporary report from Helen to discuss the next steps in their investigation.

As he hadn’t make an appearance yet, waiting was all Steve could do right now. He stared out of the diner window and watched the people outside, living their lives, not caring that there was a killer running free. He wished he could be like them.

Only then, Natasha collapsed into the seat next to him, in her hand her favourite mug filled with coffee, which she had shamelessly stolen from the kitchen.

“Was Fury already here?” she asked him. Steve just shook his head, not really in the mood to talk about their temperamental superior. Natasha looked with worry at her friend, but she understood his need for silence. She was also still shocked about finding Sharon that way.

Just then, their food arrived – two Hawkeye Special Breakfasts (which was nothing more than scrambled eggs, a huge stack of pancakes with maple syrup and two pastrami sandwiches) – and they ate it in comfortable silence.

When they finished their breakfast, Steve sighed. Natasha looked at him, expecting him to speak up on the subject they were avoiding for two and a half hours.

“I don’t know what to tell Peggy!” Steve confessed, completely overwhelmed by the situation. And there was another thing he feared. There was a high chance that Fury would take him off the case, because he was emotionally compromised. But he had to solve this case. He owed Sharon.

“Just tell her! Margaret Carter is tough as nails, even tougher than most of us. Personally, I think she can take it, if she hasn’t suspected it already.” Natasha said to him.

His best friend was right, of course. It was easy to be fooled by Peggy's appearance. Sometimes, he caught himself to think of his foster-mother as a frail old lady. But this fragile looking woman had been an Agent in WWII and then Director of SHIELD.

“I think you're right. I’ll go to her, as soon as Fury has told us, what he wants us to know.” He replied.

Speak of the devil. Just at that moment, the bell above the door jingled, as it was thrown open. Fury in his trademark black trench coat strode in, followed by Helen Cho dressed in a simple black dress. Both took place opposite Steve and Nat. Clint brought them two coffees and sat them down in front of them.

“Hey, Ex-boss. Thought you might want some coffee. As far as I know, SHIELD Agents still consists of fifty percent caffeine.” He grinned. Fury rolled his eye, but still took a sip of the steaming black liquid.

“Thank you!” Helen thanked Clint.

“So, anything new?” Steve asked. Helen began to rummage in her bag, while the others waited patiently for her. With a triumphant shout, she held up two folders in her free hand and presented them to the two Agents.

“Hot off the presses!” she said. Steve and Natasha raised her eyebrows, but then began to flip through the documents.

“Hmmm…Water in her lungs. Same brand of bleach. Match on the semen. Aaaaand…lots of hair. Again. I swear that guy must be bald by now.” Natasha stated.

Steve frowned. He had read something that he hadn’t noticed before. He changed to the reports of the other victims. And really, how could he not have noticed it before? He showed it to Nat, who pressed her lips together, as she always did, when she realized that she missed a fact.

“We found something.” She finally spoke up.

Now, it was Fury's turn to raise his eyebrow questioningly.

“Dog hairs. I know for a fact that Sharon didn’t own a dog, but she still loved them. If Crossbones uses a dog as bait, it is no wonder that he can catch his victims so easily.”

“What?” The most impossible word from Fury's vocabulary suddenly escaped his mouth.

Natasha showed him the report.

“The non-human hairs. They are dog hairs.” She stated.

Fury's single eye bulged in an almost comical way. He inhaled sharply, before emptying his mug and standing up. Helen, Steve and Natasha followed his example and eased their ways out of the booths.

“Alright, I guess it's back to the lab.” The Director sighed.

“Not me. I need to tell Peggy that we found Sharon. I’ll join you later.” Steve explained.

“Or you can stay with her for the time being. You're off the case.” Fury said, staring Steve right in the eyes. The blond Agent stiffened and he clenched his fists. Natasha put a steady hand on his shaking shoulder. She could see a visible vein throbbing on his forehead. Although she had often seen his friend angry, there was one thing she feared. It was this silent anger, where he didn’t speak a lot, but glared a lot at the cause for said anger. It normally happened before the real outbreak.

“The Hell I am. You can’t make me quit the case. You cannot.” Steve hissed through gritted teeth. Then he stormed out of the Diner, clapping the doors shut with such a force that even the windows rattled so loudly that Clint stormed out of the kitchen to see what the noise was all about.

But one look and secret ASL message from his wife was enough to take in the situation. He raised one eyebrow.

“Really, Fury?” was the only thing he said, before he headed back into his realm. Natasha clapped Fury's leather-clad shoulder.

“You should really reconsider your decision, Nick. Or do you think that Peggy is going to tolerate this?” she said.

Then she and Helen headed outside. Fury sighed, his trench billowing dramatically, when he followed them, muttering something about meddling Agents and their annoying relatives.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

When the doorbell rang, Peggy was not surprised to see Steve through the peephole. She had woken up this morning with a bad feeling in her gut and seeing her foster-son like this, angry and dejected at the same time, left only one option.

They had found Sharon, but most likely not alive.

Peggy took a deep breath and braced herself for what was to come. She opened the door with a slight smile.

“Hello, Steve. I must say I’m surprised to see you. You don’t often visit two days in a row.” She greeted him, pulling him into a warm embrace.

“Hello, Peggy. Am I interrupting something?” Steve asked her.

Peggy stopped him with a wave of her hand.

“Nothing important. But I guess you have something important to tell me.” she replied, her smile gone as soon as she had closed the door. Steve's face fell, but he still helped her going to the living room, where she sat down in her comfy armchair.

Steve sat down on the couch, trying to find the right words to say what had to be said. But he struggled, even visibly, to do so, although Natasha had told him to tell her straightaway. The words didn’t come. Next to him, Peggy sighed tiredly. She took his trembling hand and squeezed it affectionately.

“Just say it, Steve. I already said I won’t break. But I need to hear it from you.” The old woman encouraged him.

Steve started shaking and finally, tears started to fall from his eyes, the stress of the past days and hours finally taking its toll.

“I…I’m sorry, Peggy. But we found her this morning. Under the George. She’s dead and now Fury wants to take me off the case. B...But I can’t do this. I owe it to her that I’m the one catching that asshole who killed her.” He wept bitterly, burying his face in his hands.

Peggy closed her eyes and let the news sink in. She had expected such an outcome ever since Steve's visit yesterday. Still…Still, it hurt so much. It’s been a while, since she had felt so much hurt that it wanted to make her scream out loud so that the whole world could hear her pain. That had been, when her beloved Angie had died.

Now, her little darling Sharon had suffered the same fate. And her little boy blamed himself for her death, when it hadn’t been his fault. Letting out a choked sob, she pulled him in a close embrace and let him cry on her shoulder, like a real mother would do, for his lost sister-if-not-in-blood.

They stayed like this, until Steve had no more tears left. Only then, Peggy got up and walked over to one of her drawer, pulling it open. She took out an old, very thick file, before she walked over to the fireplace and took the last photograph from the mantelpiece. Steve watched her with tearstained eyes, confused about what his foster-mother was up to.

Peggy returned to her armchair and put both things on the table.

“What’s that?” Steve wanted to know.

The old woman sighed.

“I need to tell you something. It’s important that you listen to me.” She said firmly.

“What’s wrong, Peggy?” Steve replied, now alarmed.

“I need to tell you, why it’s my fault that Angie and Sharon are dead.”

Steve frowned in confusion, but let her talk.

“As you know, I’ve been a member of the SSR, the predecessor of SHIELD, in WWII. Our goal was to create an army of super soldiers that could defeat anything on the enemy’s battlefield. Unfortunately, our head scientist was killed by a member of HYDRA, before we could succeed.” Peggy began to tell.

“Who or what is HYDRA?” Steve wanted to know.

“HYDRA was formerly part of the Thule Society, the occult wing of Hitler’s NSDAP. But her leader, an extremely cruel and sadistic man named Johann Schmidt, separated his organisation from both parties. He wanted to do his own thing, as you would say these days. So, he started his own.

His right hand, a Swiss scientist named Armin Zola, developed impossible weapons. They would blast any enemy soldier and weaponry into tiny particles.” She explained.

“I guess it was difficult to fight against them.” Steve deduced.

Peggy nodded.

“You're right. It took Stark Industries’, the Howling Commando’s and the SSR’s combined efforts to put an end to his terror regime. You must know, he planned to bomb out the Eastern Seaboard. And he had to be stopped.”

“What did you do?”

“First, we captured Zola. He was on his way to Dresden and the Howlies entered the train he was in. From the peak of a mountain in the Bavarian Alps. In prison, Chester Philipps convinced him to change sides and tell him everything about Schmidt’s base. Strangely enough, it was inside one of the highest mountains in the middle of the Alps.

We started an attack and for once, Lady Luck was on our side. We put a stop on his plans, before he could succeed.”

“What happened?” Steve asked, now intrigued by the story.

“He blew himself up with in his own base. He tried to start his personal plane with several bombs, which had been designated for all major cities on the Seaboard. But the take-off runway had been littered with the bodies of his soldiers and lots of blood. His plane started skidding and, at last, crashed against the hangar door. You should have seen the fireball, Stevie. Me and the Howlies had never seen a more beautiful sight. For us, it meant that we prevailed over pure evil.”

“What happened to Zola?”

“After the war, he came to the US as part of Operation Paperclip. In hindsight, we should have known better. He worked for the SSR and later for SHIELD. In the late sixties, he adopted an orphaned boy, the first of many gifted children who came into his care. He said he wanted to take care of them, making amends for his terrible sins during the war. Do you want to know, what he really did?” she spat out, her shoulders shaking with suppressed fury.

Steve nodded.

“He tortured them. Made them compliant with a weird combination of electroshock therapy and drugs. By the time, where we realized, what he had done, he and his kids had disappeared from the face of the Earth.” Peggy said in a disgusted tone.

Steve inhaled deeply. What kind of man tortured orphaned kids?

“But what does Zola have to do with Crossbones?” he asked, still not understanding the significance of what Peggy told him. The older woman showed him the group photo.

“The little boy on this photo. He’s Crossbones. He killed my Angie and my Sharon.” She choked.

Steve looked shocked at Peggy and then at the photo. This little boy should be Crossbones.”

“But how…?” he stammered.

“Do you remember my last day as Director of SHIELD?”

Steve nodded. He remembered that day very clearly. There had been a gala dinner in Washington D.C. in her honour, but strangely enough, Angie hadn’t appeared. Her body had been found one day later at the bank of the Potomac. Apparently, she had been taking a walk before the dinner and had a stroke, which caused her to tumble into the river, where she drowned. it had been a devastating day for Peggy, when Nick had to tell her that they had found Angie’s corpse.

“What no one except for me, Nick and Phil knows, is that it wasn’t an accident. SHIELD’s ME found a branding on her. The same ones, which your victims have on them. From that day on, I knew that HYDRA wasn’t dead and that Angie's dead had been a message, meant only for me.” She said, tears running freely from her eyes.

Steve was completely weirded out. He hadn’t expected that his case turned out to be the tip of a fifty-five-year-old political war.

“Do you know his name?” he broached the subject again.

Peggy looked sadly at her foster-son. She had known that he’d ask.

“I called an old friend yesterday. He gave me the information. His name is Brock Rumlow and he lives here in NY. Apparently, Zola had a Townhouse on Staten Island, near New Dorp Beach. You can find the complete address in this file. He probably left it to Brock.” She replied, giving him the old file. Steve took it with awe, because now he had something vital.

“Thank you, Peggy!” he whispered, bracing himself, before he asked again. “By the way, do you know if he had or has a dog?”

Peggy blinked at him.

“I think Jim said he had a Shepherd. Albino German Shepherd. Named it Johann after Schmidt. Why?” She all but snorted, shaking her head at the sheer absurdity of the name.

“We found dog hairs on all victims. You know Sharon’s love for dogs, although she couldn’t have one.” Steve explained.

“You mean, he uses his dog as bait?” Peggy asked. Steve nodded.

“Sounds like something he’d do.” She said.

Steve could only agree. But right now, he had to share the news at work – and have a strong word with Fury about having secrets behind his back. Although…Steve groaned, as he stood up.

“What’s wrong, Stevie?” Peggy asked, concerned.

“I almost forgot that Fury took me off the case.” He admitted. Peggy snorted. She heaved herself up and walked Steve to the front door. Adjusting Steve's tie and smothering some invisible wrinkles, she said to him:

“You go and take care of Brock. Leave Fury to me! Believe me, he will take you back.”

Steve chuckled, because he just knew that she could and would do that.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

Darcy woke up to a nasty pounding in her head. Her vision was blurred and there was a metallic taste in her mouth. Instinctively, she fumbled for her glasses and found them not far away from where she was lying. She put them on and immediately, her eyes widened in shock.

She was in some sort of small chamber, one half of the walls translucent and the other not, no door. It seemed that she was trapped. Immediately, one name crossed her mind. Crossbones, New York’s and New Jersey’s serial killer number one.

Oh god, he must have captured her, she thought. Panic welled up inside her. She needed to get out. Through the transparent part, she could make out a human silhouette and the form of a larger dog – the same dog from the park.

Darcy jumped up and pounded against the mirrored part with her fists.

“Let me out! Let me out, you creep.” She screamed at the top of her lungs, continuing her hammering. But whoever was in here with here, seemed to enjoy her suffering.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps that walked away. He left her alone in here. He left her alone. Somewhere in nowhere. She didn’t want to be alone. She wanted to be back home, cuddling with Sam on their couch, watching a movie with her fiancé.

She wanted to be anywhere but here.   

But it seemed that no one had heard her.

She was all on her own.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

**Chapter 6**

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

Yggdrasil Centre for Neurosciences, CCNY, 12:50 am

Sam was waiting impatiently in the lobby of the Institute for Darcy to take the call he was making, holding the upper part of the receiver tightly against his ear. He had already tried to call his fiancé twice, since it was almost one. But he just got another message that the person he tried to call, was not available.

Sighing, he put the phone down. To be frankly, he was a little bit worried now. Darcy always took his calls, no matter what happened. So, when she didn’t pick up, it worried him deeply. Something must have shown on his face, because Jane approached him on her way to the cafeteria.

“Hey, Sam. Everything alright? You look concerned.” The brunette scientist asked him. The lab technician sighed again.

“I can't reach Darcy. I’ve already called her thrice, but she doesn't take the call. It’s not like her to ignore my calls like that, especially since we wanted to meet for lunch. Maybe you can try to call her?” he stated his concerns. Jane nodded and took out her mobile, all but punching in Darcy’s number, before holding it to her ear.

She waited almost half a minute, before her gorgeous face frowned in confusion. She ended the connection, now also worried about her BFF.

“I can’t get through to her. That’s really strange…” she trailed off. Sam inhaled sharply. Something wasn’t right. He had to check. Looking at his wristwatch, which showed him that it was five minutes to one p.m., he made a decision.

“Listen, I’m going over to CCNY and look for her. Something must have happened.” He said to Jane, who nodded grimly.

“Please tell me, when you have found her. Let’s hope that she wasn’t abducted by some madman.” She replied, saying out loud that both were thinking. Sam nodded and hurried out of the lobbying, all the way hoping that he was wrong.

It didn’t take him long to get to St. Nicholas Park. The green oasis was mostly empty, except for a few runners. Sam walked along Darcy's usual way, looking right and left for a sign of his joyful fiancée. Much to his dismay, he found one. Right before him, he saw Darcy's bag and one of her favourite boots she had on earlier.

A shocked gasp escaped Sam's lips. He fell to his knees, shaky fingers reaching out for the lost-looking items. His eyes noticed the barely visible scorch marks on the path, accompanied by tiny droplets of a dried red-brown liquid.

Sam felt himself starting to hyperventilate. Someone had taken his Darcy, had hurt her.

His breathing quickened and for a moment, Sam thought he had a heart attack, because his chest seemed to be on fire. Only slowly, he realized that he was in the beginning stages of a panic attack. He desperately clutched his chest, his body shaking uncontrollably. For an outsider, he must look like a harried, wild madman.

Maybe he was a little bit crazy, but just because he knew who had kidnapped her. And he just knew the guy, who could help him bringing her back.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

The Triskelion, 1:45 pm

Natasha and Fury waited in Doctor Cho's office for her to come back from a new scene. She had gotten a call a few minutes after one and joined Phil, who had volunteered to take a look at it. Apparently, another woman had gone missing and her fiancé was friends with Thor Odinson from STRIKE. So naturally, he had called him. Since basically everyone in SHIELD knew that Thor was the kind of guy, who never lied, they had to assume that Crossbones had taken his next victim.

Natasha didn’t like that thought. It meant that the killer was escalating and had taken the student, while they were still examining Sharon's body. Otherwise, he’d have waited one day or two.

The opening sound of a door outside let them listen attentively. Moments later, Helen entered her office, her face grim. In her hands, she held several small plastic bags with samples of hairs.

Both Agents watched her as she walked around her desk and dropped into her office chair.

“And?” Fury demanded to know.

“Looks like we got another one. But we only can know for sure, after we have compared the samples. You can join me if you want.” Helen offered.

“Gladly.” Fury said. Just then, when they were about to stand up, Fury's mobile began to ring. The Director took it out and scowled at the number on the display.

“You can go already. I’ll join you later. I just have to take this call.” Fury said, pointing at his still ringing mobile and suddenly very eager to get rid of them.

Must be a very important call, if he doesn’t want us to know, Natasha thought, before she and Helen left the ME’s office. Both women went to the Lab, where the ME started to compare the fresh samples with the ones they had found on the other victims. Fury joined them five minutes later, looking a little bit pale. Natasha raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Do I wanna know?” she asked. Fury glared at her, but gave no answer, which, strangely enough, was answer enough for her. Then they looked as Helen continued her work. Of each sample appeared an image on a monitor next to the video microscope, confirming what they now had expected.

“Complete absence of melamine.” Helen mused.

“He’s got an albino dog?” Fury asked unbelievingly.

Helen nodded.

“An Albino German Shepherd, to be precise.” She specified.

“Hmmm…sounds like an animal he’d love.” Natasha replied, her eyes glued to the screen. “A rare breed indeed. Shouldn’t be too difficult to find out the breeder, since most breeders tend to kill albino pups.” She explained. Helen nodded approvingly.

Fury clapped his hands together.

“Alright, then. Natasha, get Phil and his squad. Meeting in ten in the conference room. And tell Skye to print out a list of all German Shepherd Breeders in the Greater New York Area, New Jersey and Virginia. Time to get the bastard at last.”

Natasha nodded and went towards Phil's office, taking out her mobile and sending Steve a message, while she was at it. There was no way in hell that her best friend would miss this out. Fury could ruffle his feathers as much as he wanted, for all she cared. Because this was going to be interesting.

 

Steve was already near the Triskelion, when his mobile vibrated. Taking it out, he opened the message from Nat. It was just an information of a meeting in ten minutes in the main conference room. Guess he had now a vital reason to crash the meeting.

After entering the lobby, the blond Agent made his way to the elevators and pushed the button for the thirtieth floor. The doors closed and Steve half-heartedly listened to the awful elevator music during his journey upwards. It didn’t take him long to reach his designated floor. After stepping into the hallway, he made his way straight to Skye’s workplace.

The young female hacker was deeply absorbed in her work that she didn’t notice him, until he was standing right in front of her.

“Hey, Skye.” He addressed her loudly. Skye’s brown eyes looked up from the three monitors, where they had been staring at.

“Oh. Hi Steve! Can I do something for you?” the young woman asked.

Steve threw her a small smile and drew a small note from the file he was holding.

“Can you check this name and address for me? I need to know if he got a dog’s licence and if the address is still valid.” He replied. Skye took it and read the information on it.

“Sure, I can do that. It doesn’t happen to do something with your case? You know the one Fury has taken you off?” she asked him curiously. Steve chuckled.

“Maybe. But it's not like you haven’t bent the rules before. And I think Fury may have reconsidered his decision by now.” He answered. Daisy chuckled. She knew exactly what Steve meant.

“Alright, then, Steve-O. Give me a few minutes and the information is all yours. Wanna crash the meeting?” she replied, fingers already flying over the keyboard.

“Absolutely. See you in a moment.” Steve retorted, before turning around and waving at her, before he left her workplace.

 

In the main conference room, Fury opened the meeting with Natasha, Phil, FitzSimmons and a few random Junior Agents, all of them in desperate need of caffeine. All of them, but mostly the Baby Agents, were gossiping and complaining loudly. A few of the Juniors were shooting paper planes at Fury, who didn’t look amused at their antics.

Only when Fury cleared his throat and slammed a huge pile of printouts on the table, he finally caught their attention.

“Okay, Ladies and Gentlemen, now that I got your attention, can we please come to the main topic of this meeting?” he thundered, holding up a photo of Maria Hill.

“Maria Hill, SHIELD Agent and Vice Director. Dead.” He thundered and slammed it next to the paper pile, before holding up the photo of Betty Ross.

“Betty Ross, Daughter of General Thaddeus Ross and Professor at NYU. Dead.”

Slam. Next photo.

“Christine Everhart, Journalist for the NY Times. Dead.”

Slam. Next photo.

“And our last victim. Sharon Carter, niece of former Director Carter and SHIELD Agent, also dead.”

Slam. Fury put the last photo on the small pile with the others and glared at his subjects.

“Four people are dead, all of them women of importance for this city and this country. All of them embarking or already on peak of their careers.  And now we have a fifth missing woman, a Poli-Sci major, who just disappeared from St. Nicolas Park at CCNY. First results from Doctor Cho just confirmed that we’re dealing with the same killer.

We have found hairs on each victim, which we couldn’t dedicate to the victims or our killer. And yet, Agent Rogers and Agent Romanoff managed to find a clue, which could lead us to our guy.” He continued his speech, internally cheering, when he saw that the Junior Agents were hanging on his every word.

“What clue do you have, Sir?” a female Agent asked.

“Dog hairs.” Was Nick’s answer.

“Dog hairs, Sir?” the agent repeated, confused.

“Dog hairs. Our suspect is most likely a white male, about 30 – 40 years old and he has a dog. A purebred Albino German Shepherd.” He explained, holding up the photo of a beautiful white shepherd.

“What a beautiful animal!” the female Agent breathed.

“That’s also the reason, why you’re here.” Fury said, putting his right hand on the huge paper pile. “Registered breeders in the Greater New York Area, New Jersey and Virginia. I need you to find out the ones that have sold Albino pups. Shouldn’t be too difficult to manage.” He continued.

There was a large, collective groan among the Junior Agents, because they just knew that they were going to be the ones doing that work. Natasha almost pitied them. But without the Babies, she and Phil would be the ones going through the list, and she really wasn’t in the mood for that.

“I don’t think that’s necessary. I know his name and where to find him.” Steve's voice suddenly rang through the room, making heads turn towards him.

Natasha winked at him, while Fury let out a deep sigh and rolled his eye.

“Is it just me or have you misunderstood the “You are off the case” order?” he barked.

Steve snorted.

“No, Nick. I merely have considered that you might have made up your mind.” He replied.

“Oh, do you mean the call from Former Director Carter, where she threatened to cut off my balls, if I don’t let you back on the case?” Fury hissed.

Steve just shrugged his shoulders.

“Maybe.” Was his only answer, while he stared at Fury.

Nick stared back at Steve, daring him to back down. Meanwhile, the whole room had gone silent, while they watched the silent exchange between both men.

Finally, Fury huffed.

“Fine, do what you want. But only, because I happen to be very fond of my balls.” He sulked.

“Thanks, Nick. But like I said, I know our guy’s name and address. His name is Brock Rumlow, 45 years old and lives near New Dorp Beach on Staten Island. Has an Albino German Shepherd named Johann.” Steve explained, while showing Fury Rumlow’s file.

When Fury saw the old SSR logo on the file, he just raised an eyebrow.

“Is that confirmed?” he wanted to know.

“Skye is running his name through the system. Should have the information every minute now.”

Just then, Skye came running into the room, waving a printout in her hand.

“Steve, you were right. Brock Rumlow, lives on Milbank Road on Staten Island. Got no registered weapon, but has a dog’s license for an Albino German Shepherd.” She rattled off the facts, before she handed him the paper. Steve read the contents, before he gave it to Fury. The Director read the printout, before handing it to Phil.

“Fine. I’ll call the 122th on Staten Island, so they can watch our guy for the time being. “You two…” Fury pointed to Steve and Natasha. “…go to Bensonhurst and interview the fiancé of our new victim, a Sam Wilson. Call me, when you’re done, and I’ll send you a chopper that will bring you to the 122th, where we will meet up with STRIKE THREE. Any questions?”

“No, Sir!” Steve and Natasha answered at once.

“Fine, then come on. Let’s not wait for the grass to grow. We don’t have that much time.” He clapped his hands together and shooed them out of the conference room.

And for once, both Agents complied.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

Milbank Road, New Dorp Beach, Staten Island, 2:30 pm.

Brock's home was a modest middle-class two-story, three-bedroom, two-baths house on Staten Island near New Dorp Beach with adjoining garage. A small path at the left side of the house led to it. A small door connected the garage with the large backyard, which provided a spectacular view at the Lower New York Bay.

From the garden in the backyard, one had easy outside access to the basement through a second door.

In short, nothing indicated that something was wrong with the owner of said house. And yet, no one in the neighbourhood knew what kind of man Brock really was. For them, Brock was a really quiet and reclusive kind of guy, who had inherited the house from his late adoptive father and lived there with his beautiful white dog.

The older man had just returned from New Jersey and parked his Pick-up Truck in his driveway, turning off the radio. He didn’t know why, but today, Alexander Pierce’s wisdoms had left his head ringing in a way, which posed a problem even for his abnormally high pain tolerance. But Brock ignored the pain eating away at his skull and the weak vertigo. There’s only order with HYDRA and order only come through pain, he repeated his mantra silently. Pain was good, pain was necessary to function.

While he kept repeating his chant, he let Johann out of his car. The German Shepherd trotted towards the garage and disappeared through the connecting door, which led into the backyard. Johann always used the open basement entrance to get into the house, so Brock had no worry that his pet would join him inside.

Ignoring the growing dizziness in his head, he walked inside and into the kitchen, opening the fridge and taking a big gulp from his last gallon of OJ. The cold liquid numbed his pain a little bit. But Brock decided, since he had already worked so hard today that he would take a little nap on the couch, until it was time to return to Lehigh.

The almost non-audible pitter-patter of Johann’s paws, who joined his master in the living room. He paced nervously, as Brock slumped down on the red couch, whimpering concerned. He had noticed that something was wrong with his Master. The unblinking eyes, as his master scratched his head, were a visible sign. Johann barked, but got no reaction from him.

Brock, on the other side, struggled to stay awake. And the voice in his head just told to go to sleep, over and over again. As always, Brock was terrifyingly good at obeying orders. He closed his eyes and let Morpheus claim him for the time being. Johann whined, but laid down on the floor, guarding his Master’s sleep.

On the other side of the road, a few metres out of sight, a NYPD police car took its place, two local cops starting to watch Brock’s residence.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, 2:32 pm

About one and half an hour later after his terrible discovery, Sam found himself in Darcy's home in Bensonhurst, trying to comfort her mother, who was weeping bitterly. After calling Thor, who had promised to send his colleagues, he had called Jane, who had been just as shocked as he had been. The scientist had promised to tell T’Challa of what had happened and to take the rest of the day off.

Sam had just gone back to get his things and his car. He didn’t know he had gotten back to Darcy's home, but at least he managed to do it in one piece. Darcy was still living at home and they decided to keep it that way until after the wedding. However, it didn’t stop him from looking at possible future apartments for them.

Mrs. Lewis was a small petite woman, looking really fragile and shy, unlike her boisterous daughter. Right now, after the terrible news she just had gotten delivered, she almost disappeared in the couch. Her brown gaze was staring at the sea of photos on the opposite wall, showing her, Darcy and Sam.

Meanwhile Sam looked at the two SHIELD Agents, who had arrived minutes ago with the unfortunate task to interview them about Darcy's disappearance. While the blond man had a friendly aura, the red-headed woman looked like she could kill him with her pinkie. So, Sam did his best to answer the Agent’s questions, while comforting his future mother-in-law.

“Mrs. Lewis, was your daughter still living at home?” the blond man, who had introduced himself as Agent Rogers, asked.

Mrs. Lewis nodded.

“Yes, Sir.”

“But we’re looking at apartments. For the time after the wedding. I mean.” Sam added.

Steve nodded affirmingly.

“Why were you at St. Nicholas Park, Mr. Wilson?” he continued his questioning.

Sam sighed.

“We were supposed to meet for lunch.”

“You came to pick her up when?”

“One o’clock.”

“And then you called Mr. Odinson, when you found the bag and the shoe?”

“Yes. Thor is the husband of Darcy’s BFF and a good friend of mine. You may have heard of her. Dr. Jane Foster. I work with her and two friends on a special project for Stark Industries.” Sam explained as much as his nondisclosure agreement allowed him to.

“Yes, we know Thor. He’s…unique. And he never lies. That’s why we are here, Mr. Wilson. We want to catch that guy and bring Darcy back, before the inevitable happens.” Agent Romanoff suddenly spoke in a gentle voice, which Sam hadn’t expected from the hard-looking woman.

Although he had heard that excuse from the cops more than once, he believed her.

After exchanging business cards, both Agents said goodbye to them and stepped out of the house, where Phil was waiting for them with the SUV. He was talking to the cops that accompanied them and would stay here.

“And did you get some additional information?” the older Agent asked.

Steve shook his head.

“Just confirmed what we already knew. Did Fury tell you, where we are supposed to meet the chopper?” he questioned.

“Dyker Beach Park. It’s not far from here. Right next to the Brooklyn Veterans Hospital.” Phil said, already claiming his place in the driver’s seat, while Nat and Steve took the seats in the back.

The ride to their destination didn’t take long. Steve was antsy, because very soon he’d face Sharon's murderer and he didn’t know if he could control himself, when he saw him from face to face. Natasha sensed Steve’s anxiousness and put a calming hand on his.

“Everything’s going to be alright, Steve. Just stay calm.” She whispered.

Steve just nodded. He was grateful to have such a good friend in Natasha. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have known what to do without her.

Finally, they reached the small park next to the Hospital. The rotating twin-blades of the waiting chopper were already blowing up sand from the nearby sandpits. Natasha had to keep her hair in check, so that it would not get into the blades’ way. Ducking, both Agents rushed over and hopped into the back of the helicopter, fastening their seatbelts.

Moments later, they were finally on their way to Staten Island.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

Camp Lehigh, New Jersey, 2:33 pm

In her cell, Darcy sat on the cold floor, glaring at the small pile of snack wrappers that laid next to the drinking spigot. Honestly, a drinking spigot and a toilet in one place? What kind of sick asshole did come up with that idea? Probably one that had never heard of hygiene.

And the place was fucking freezing. Had that asshole ever heard of something like central heating? No, here she was, freezing to death, because she lost one of her favourite boots.

Oh, how she wished that she had her beloved taser with her. She’d tasered that sicko to hell and back. But who was she kidding? She may be fuming right now, but when Darcy looked at the mirrored part of her prison, she looked right into the face of a scared little girl.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

Lower New York Bay, 2:55 pm

  
The helicopter ride to the 122th precinct on Hyan Boulevard lasted ten minutes. Already from above, the two Agents could see the large muster of police and SHIELD units, which Fury obviously managed to gather in that short amount of time.

Aside from a two USCG TPSB’s on the water, here was STRIKE THREE’s van, three SHIELD SUV’s, half a dozen NYPD cars and one suburban, which obviously belonged to a K-9 unit. The latter probably belonged to Sif, since the tough woman was Thor's bosom buddy and walking Thor-English dictionary in one. Nat really liked her. Because just like her, she took no shit from the boys and could kick their ass to hell and back. Plus, she loved animals and that was always fine with Natasha.

The chopper finally landed on the track and field stadium next to the precinct. As soon as it touched the ground, Steve and Nat unbuckled their seatbelts and hopped out of the aircraft, rushing over to the small crowd that was watching them from the relative safety behind the cars.

“Greetings, my brethren-in-arms!” Thor in his black STRIKE uniform greeted them in his thunderous voice, pulling them in such a tight embrace that both had difficulties to breathe.

“Hey, Thor!” Steve managed to gasp, while trying to inhale properly. Behind them, the other cops and agents chuckled, because they had suffered the same fate just minutes ago. Finally, Sif took pity on them.

“Let them go, Thor. We still need them in one piece for the operation.” She argued. Thor nodded and let go off them.

“As usual, you are right, my dear Lady Sif. Forgive me, my comrades, but I’m most angered that this evildoer dared to abduct my lady-love’s shieldmaiden and her lightning in a box. My lady-love and her companions are most distressed by her disappearance. I cannot allow him to continue his evil doings.” The huge man boomed. Steve nodded and patted Thor's huge biceps comfortingly.

“Not only you, buddy!” he agreed. Thor's face fell.

“Forgive me, Comrade Steve. I almost forgot about the fate of your foster-sibling. My deepest condolences for your loss! Lady Sharon was a formidable sister-in-arms and she shall not be forgotten.” Thor offered his sympathy. Steve had to take a deep breath, because suddenly his eyes seemed to be burning suspiciously. Nevertheless, he offered the giant a small smile.

“Thanks, Thor. I appreciate it.” He said. Thor patted his back and then fell silent again.

Sif and Natasha watched them from where they were standing. Nat threw a glance at the hard-looking SHIELD dog handler.

“So, what was Thor talking about? He’s very hard to understand with that Shakespeare English of his.” The redheaded Agent asked.

Sif threw her colleague a small smile and rolled her eyes.

“It’s his thing, ever since he had that drama class in college. But apparently, he met Jane, his wife, after she hit him with her car, while on vacation with Darcy. Something must have happened, because right after the accident, Darcy tasered with her pet taser. Ever since, he and Jane are together and Darcy is his sister, only not by blood.” She explained.

“What about you?” Natasha asked. Sif threw her an impassive look, but Natasha could see a huge amount of pain in her eyes. Immediately, it clicked in her, because she had seen that pain before.

“Sharon or Maria?” Natasha suddenly asked. Sif closed her eyes and shook her head.

“Does it matter anymore?” the dark-haired woman whispered. Natasha studied her. She had never realized that Sif had been in a relationship with one of her colleagues.

“No, it doesn’t. But maybe, it helps lessen the pain.” She said to Sif. The K-9-unit handler snorted, but pulled a photo out of her breast pocket. Much to Natasha's surprise, it showed Sif with Sharon **and** Maria.

“I’m sorry for your double loss.” Natasha spoke honestly. And she meant it. Steve had lost only one cousin. Sif had lost both her loves. She had to tell Steve later. Maybe she could invite her to Clint’s diner, so that they could talk about it.

Just then, Fury stepped out and went to his subjects, clapping his hands together, before holding up a photo.

“Alright, I’m glad you could make it. Our suspect’s name is Brock Rumlow, 45, white male. Fandral from STRIKE THREE will explain our further approach.” He shouted. Then a blond man with goatee stepped forward.

“Our suspect lives in the last house on Milbank Road, which is only a few hundred metres away. Thor will lead the operation. He and I are going to take the front door, while Hogun and Volstagg approach from the back. Everyone, who’s going to follow us, has to be careful. Although he has no registered weapon, we all know that this isn’t really a hindrance.” Fandral explained in a loud voice.

A murmur of approval went through the crowd. Then, Thor stepped forwards, carrying his beloved MP5/10 submachine gun Mjolnir, named after the legendary hammer.

“Then let’s go, my comrades. Evil shall not prevail.” He thundered. Everyone clapped his hands, before getting in their respective cars.

Steve and Natasha put on their bulletproof vests, before they joined Fury in his SUV. Steve felt his adrenaline levels rise steadily. Just a few minutes and he would be facing Sharon’s murderer for the first time.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

**Chapter 7**

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

Milbank Rd, Staten Island, 3:05 pm

It took the whole convoy less than ten minutes to reach Milbank Road. They parked their cars behind the police unit that had been watching Rumlow's house in the meantime, before getting out, armed and armoured. Naturally, the neighbours noticed the massive police presence and came out of their houses, worried that something bad had happened.

The local cops went to them and asked to stay in their housed for the time being, while their operation was still running. After much arguing, everyone went inside, probably to watch the spectacle from behind their silk curtains.

There was no movement inside the house, although the unit watching it had mentioned that no one had left it. So maybe their guy was taking a beauty nap, dreaming of new, creative ways to kill his next victims.

Thor and his buddies slowly advanced forwards, weapons at the ready. The huge man made a gesture with his free hand. Hogun, an American-Asian Agent, and Volstagg, a sturdy man with shocking red hair, rushed forwards and took the small path to the backyard.

Thor then gestures for the rest to follow them to come after them. Steve, Nat and Fury had drawn their guns and followed the STRIKE THREE leader at a respectful distance. Although everyone’s adrenaline levels were at its peak, everything’s seemed to go well until now.

But just as they approached the front door, a loud, inhuman scream, which came out of the house, startled everyone.

 

Brock was dreaming, eyeballs moving rapidly under his lids, as he went into REM mode.

_He was a young boy again, running through the infinite maze that were his memories. The small, plump man with the round glasses chased him again. He knew there would be pain, if the man caught him again. Agonizing pain. Burning pain._

_His fast legs carried him through the labyrinth, until he ended up in a huge dome-like chamber. It wasn’t dark, but also not bright. There was a semi-darkness all over the place that made shudder in fear. In the room, itself, was a large pool of water with a big statue of a skull-faced octopus._

_Brock knew that statue. He had seen that sign before. His adoptive father had plenty of pictures of it on the walls of his office._

_Suddenly, something big and red wrapped itself around his torso. Brock tried to scream in terror, but a second appendage wrapped itself around his neck. Trying to wriggle his way out, he stopped, when a voice in a heavy swiss accent said from behind:_

_“Zere’s no escape, my boy. HYDRA will always vind you, because she’z in your blood and your bonez. So juzt relax and let it happen.”_

_Brock believed it. He stopped struggling and let out a deep breath. With an impassive face, he watched a third limb rising out of the water, holding up a red-hot, circular-shaped headband. His eyes followed the tentacle, as it held the circlet over his head. He could feel the heat radiating from the band, even though it was still far away from his scalp. Although he knew that it was going to hurt, he closed his eyes and waited until it was placed on his head._

_At first, he only felt a little bit of warmth. But this warmth became more and more intense, until the sharp smell of burnt flesh attacked his sense of smell and an overwhelming caustic pain flashed through every cell of his brain._

_He started to struggle again, which caused the appendages around his neck and torso to tighten. He couldn’t breathe and his head was on constant fire._

_Everything was too warm. So hot and burning._

_He needed to get out…_

_He needed to get out…_

_He screamed…_

Brock opened his eyes wide with pain, as he struggled with his breathing. Every nerve ending in his brain was on fire and he just wanted it to end, wanted to rip his skull open and end the agony.

So warm. So Hot. So Burning. Brock desperately clawed at his shirt and tore it into pieces.

Just when a blood-curling scream escaped his lips, Johann suddenly started to growl and to bark. It could only mean one thing.

Intruders.

 

Johann had watched his master sleep. His master was not well. He could sense it. Still, he let him sleep. His master had worked in the last few days and deserved some quiet and peace. But he didn’t seem to rest well. His face was scrunched up and he seems to have trouble breathing. Sweat ran down his master’s face and he gritted his teeth together.

Johann whimpered in concern, but that changed rapidly as he heard noises from the front and the back. His fine nose smelled intruders – two in the backyard and more than five at the frontside. He needed to wake his master up. He needed to alert him.

Johann began to growl and to bark loudly, until his master woke up gasping, grabbing his head in agony. Johann let out a whimper, when he sensed the bursting of blood vessels inside his master’s head, smelling the distinct metallic odour of lifeblood. Just then, his master let out a loud scream that made Johann want to join him.

Somehow, his master managed to pick himself up from the sofa and stumble over the old wooden cabinet next to the window. Out of a drawer, he grabbed two black sticks, activating them with a click, and whirled around, standing steady, although Johann knew that he was suffering, according to the small rivulets of blood, which were running down from his nostrils and his ears. Only the hum of electricity could be heard through the silence of the house.

One minute later, the front door was kicked in and a squadron of armed Agents flooded his living room.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

Brock Rumlow's house, 3:10 pm

The scream startled everyone, who was waiting outside, believing it to be Darcy's. Thor shouted a “Go!” in his throat microphone and kicked in the front door. As soon as he entered the domicile, he was met with two glowing sticks striking his head and his unprotected body parts. Although the giant was used to getting felled by any form of electricity, the attack came as a surprise.

Thor yelled, as the electricity singed his upper layer of skin. A lesser man would have gone down instantly. But the STRIKE leader grabbed both sticks and held his attacker including his weaponry at bay. Steve, Natasha, Fury and Fandral watched the struggle at a respectful distance. They had never seen anything like Rumlow’s batons before. But it would certainly explain the scorch marks on all victims.

Finally, with a loud war cry, Thor threw Brock back into the house, letting of the sticks. Brock stumbled back, but didn’t fall. Johann sprinted forwards and growled at the intruders, baring his sharp teeth at the guns pointed at them, to give his master time to recover.

“Whoa, calm down, fella!” Fandral tried to appease the animal. Johann snapped at his out-stretched arm and the blond, bearded agent withdrew it quickly. He loved his limbs too much to lose it to a canine.

Meanwhile, Brock heaved himself up. A warm liquid was running down from his nares and from his ears. He felt vertiginous and probably shouldn’t move too much. But he would not give up without a fight. Hydra would prevail.

He stared impassively at the five intruders, who held him at gunpoint. The black man with the leather trench approached him carefully.

“Brock Rumlow?” he asked with caution.

Brock didn’t answer. He stared at the black male, as if he was an alien. His ears had started ringing and there was a strange, tingling sensation in his extremities. The black man slowly moved forwards, saying something that Brock couldn’t understand.

The noise in his ears and the voice in his head had become deafening by now. Before he could get a grasp on himself, his eyelids began to flutter and his eyes rolled back, revealing only the white. Gravity finally got a good hold on Brock’s body und pulled it merciless to the ground, barely avoiding the edge of the couch.

Johann let out a loud whimper and rushed over to his motionless master, licking his impassive face, as he tried to get a reaction from him.

Fury stared at Brock's lifeless figure, before he turned to the other agents.

“Did you anyone of you shoot him?” he asked, obviously pissed off at the turn of events. Natasha raised one of her eyebrows, before putting her gun back into her holster. She walked up to Brock and knelt next to him, feeling his pulse.

“I didn’t hear a gunshot nor do I see a gunshot wound, Nick. And since none of us used a silencer, his collapse must have another cause.” She said, taking in the pale and bloody face. “He had most likely a stroke or something similar. We should call an ambulance.” She continued.

Nick sighed.

“Well, shit.” He cursed. Of course, this bloody motherfucker had to collapse during his arrestment. He turned to Thor.

“Call an ambulance and get Sif in here, so that she can contain the dog.” He ordered.

Thor nodded and went outside to make the necessary arrangements.

Steve also came closer and watched the unconscious man. Brock Rumlow really looked like the small boy from Peggy's photo. Only that this version of him was a cruel, ice-cold murderer. And now they had another problem. With him being unconscious for who knows how long, it was sure that they wouldn’t get Darcy's whereabouts out of him. He could tell from one look around the living room that the girl couldn’t be here.

A loud gasp from Nat and Fandral pulled him out of his train of thoughts. The redhead had turned Brock on his stomach to see if he had any other injuries, and just revealed the back tattoo and the eight thick extreme piercings running down each side of his spine.

“What the fuck do you need these for?” Fandral exclaimed, horrified that anyone would wear something like that voluntarily.

“I don’t know.” Natasha whispered in horror. Steve could only agree. Why would anyone with a healthy common sense even wear these piercings? Except for, that it could be part of a ritual they hadn’t discovered yet.

In the distance, they could hear the sirens of the ambulance. Thor came back in with Sif, who had no difficulties in securing the distraught animal. While she brought Johann back to her car, the ambulance parked in front of the house.

The SHIELD agents let the crew do their work, while the local cops began to secure the area. While Fury informed Dr. Cho of what had happened, she told him to get the patient to Staten Island University Hospital North Campus, since she was teaching there, and that she was on her way. Fury grunted his affirmation. His only was that Rumlow was to be guarded twenty-four seven.

It wasn’t, until the paramedics had hauled Rumlow on the wheelbarrow and taken him away that Fury spoke up.

“They are taking him to SIUH North Campus, Cho's teaching hospital. She’s on her way, bringing Phil and a few Juniors with her, so that I can make sure that Rumlow's cuffed all the time. Found anything?”

Steve, who had taken the opportunity to sniff around the ground-level, shook his head.

“I don’t think she’s here.” He said, disappointment visible in his eyes. He really wished that it wasn’t true.

Just then, a loud shout from Volstagg, which seemed to come from the basement, alerted them all.

“Guys, you really have to see this.” His loud voice yelled. The five agents looked at each other, before they followed his voice. The entrance to the basement was next to the kitchen. One by one, they climbed down the small stairs into the cellar, joining their two colleagues, who were staring with disgust and horror in their eyes at the open hole in the ground.

“Is that…?” Natasha didn’t dare to speak out, what she saw.

“Obviously his ‘hobby’ room.” Steve added. He was the first to take the few steps down into the hidden room, the others following him only hesitantly.

His eyes took in everything.

The steel table.

The strange suspension mechanism with hooks and chains over the steel table.

The iron tub.

The fireplace with several branding irons.

The wooden table with his ‘tools’, piercing supplies and bleach.

The video surveillance system.

The sheer cruelty, the sheer existence of this place was overwhelming.

“I think this is where he prepares them after death. That means, he must have another place, where he drowns them.” Steve mused.

“You may be right, Steve.” Natasha agreed, eying up the strange mechanism.

Steve’s attention drifted to the surveillance system. What would they get to see if her switched on? Some sadistic ritual? A cartoon? Porn? His fingers twitched as he walked towards the monitor. He hesitated at first, but then curiosity won the upper hand.

Steve took a deep breath and switched on the video monitor. In the next second, he desperately wished he hadn’t done it.

The screen flickered to life and he could see Sharon's despairing face, as she struggled against the masses of water. The wild fight for oxygen. The diminishing of her life right in front of him. Finding Sharon had already been hard, but seeing her fight for her life and failing miserably was too much.

With a loud angry cry, Steve punched the wall next to the monitor, over and over again, until a small hole appeared in the reinforced barrier. He didn’t care about his bruised knuckles. He just needed to get off some steam, or else he’d explode. Only when Natasha touched his shoulder, looking at him with sympathy, Steve stopped, breathing heavily.

“I need to find that girl. I don’t want her to suffer the same fate.” He whispered.

“I know. And we will find her. But you have to calm and try not to put yourself out of commission. That way, you won’t be of use to anyone.” Natasha calmed him down.

Steve sighed. Of course, Nat was right. He couldn’t let his emotions get the better of him right now. Not, when there was someone out there that still needed them, because she didn’t know that her torturer was in a coma-like state.

No, he’d find her and if it was the last thing he’d do in his life.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

The Cell, Camp Lehigh, New Jersey, 3:35 pm

A clicking sound from above caught Darcy's attention. The young woman still sat on the cold cell floor. Suddenly, icy water sprayed from the showerhead above. Darcy shrieked in surprise and tried to block the spray with her bare hands. Her search for a shutoff valve ended fruitless. Darcy laughed drily. Why wasn’t she surprised that there was none?

Luckily, the involuntarily watering ended abruptly after thirty seconds. Darcy glared at the showerhead. “Really?” she deadpanned, not believing that her kidnapper would resolve to playing such childish games.

Shivering, she looked at herself in the mirror, hoping that her kidnapper could hear. “Stop that, you creep.” She yelled.

But just like before, she got no answer.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

SIUH North Campus, Staten Island, 4:45 pm

A human eye with a dark pupil, without any movement and deviation of the iris, was staring at the catatonic figure lying in a hospital bed, his wrists cuffed to the frame. Although it didn’t seem necessary, Fury had insisted that Rumlow was treated that way.

At the moment, the unresponsive man was connected to several monitors reporting his vital signs as well as an IV-stand, which was feeding him fluids. As an anxious nurse exited the room, she had to pass two SHIELD agents, who were standing guard.

Steve, Fury and Natasha sat opposite the bed, Steve just getting off the phone with Peggy, while Natasha and Fury watched Helen work. She was shining an ophthalmoscope into Brock's eyes, before she put it away and checked the results of the CT scan on a lightbox. She took a pen and turned to the agents, pointing at one of the several pictures.              

“There’s minimal activity in the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex. And here, the anterior cingulate cortex. It's what helps distinguish between external and internal stimuli.” She explained.

Seeing the questioning gazes of her colleagues, she translated for them:

“He's slightly schizophrenic. Do you see the white spots all over there?”

The others nodded.

“That’s scar tissue, probably from some form of electrocution. I’m still surprised that he didn’t collapse much earlier.” Helen explained.

Fury groaned. He didn’t like this.  Not one bit. But then Steve spoke up.

“Actually, it makes sense, at least for me. Peggy said that his adoptive faster used electroshock therapy on him and others to make them compliant.” He said.

Natasha raised both eyebrows.

“Really? That’s sick.”

Fury sighed.

“And when will he wake up? We need to hear from him, where the woman is.” He hissed angrily.

Helen looked at her patient.

“I’m afraid I don’t know. This is no act, Nick.  The coma is real. He can stay like this for days or years.”

“Which means?”

Helen sighed and pointed at the EEG, which was almost flatlined.

“It’s seldom, but it can happen. It’s like he has severed all ties to reality.  No awareness of this world or the people in it.”

“What about Thorazine? Or... Desoxyn?” Fury demanded to know.

“The normal psychotropics don't work. He's not just catatonic, he's...disappeared. Like he’s having a dream and never waking up. I’m sorry for her and for you.”

Steve was past angry. He's fuming and bordering on devastation. Natasha attempted to placate him.

“We'll go back to his house, Steve. There's still a lot to do.  Analyse the videos, track sales of the bleach, go through his records. Maybe he owns property somewhere.” She tried to calm her best friend down.

“No, Nat. We were so close to find her and now she’s gonna die just like Maria and Sharon. I don’t want him to give the satisfaction that he can just get away with this like that. I just can’t.” he all but shouted at his best friend.

Nat backed off, knowing that her partner was on the verge of really losing it. She knew that it was his pain, which made him lash out like this. If something like this had happened to Clint, she’d have probably done the same.

Helen watched the exchange between the two friends and it didn’t leave her unaffected. And all hope was not lost, yet.

She cleared her throat to get Steve's attention.

“Steve? This is a longshot. I mean, a real long shot. You're gonna think I'm crazy. But…” she spoke up.

Steve frowned at her. Helen continued.

“A few acquaintances of mine have developed an experimental device to immerge in comatose patients’ minds. I can’t promise that it’s going to work. But I think it's worth a try.”

Steve stared at her, as if he had seen an angel right now. Natasha’s brow furrowed. Fury just raised his eyebrows.

“Have you ever heard of the Yggdrasil Centre for Neurosciences? It’s part of the CCNY?”

When the name CCNY was dropped into the room, Natasha lit up. She pulled her wallet out of her jacket pocket and took out a business card, showing it to Fury..

“Isn’t Sam Wilson working there?” she asked the ME. Helen blinked owlishly.

“Yes, I know Sam. He’s working with my friends.” She answered.

“…and so the circle is complete.” The redheaded woman whispered. Then she clapped her hands, finally taking action.

“It seems that we should be calling Mr. Wilson. Apparently, he will be needed for work tonight. Helen, could you call your friends right now? It’d be really awesome, if this works out.” She asked the doctor.

Helen nodded and went to the phone at the wall to make the call. Natasha then turned to Fury.

“Nick, how fast can you get a chopper here?” she smirked. Fury snorted, but took out his mobile.

“Faster than you can say Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.” He said and called their logistics division.

Natasha took Steve's trembling hands.

“You see, everything’s going to be alright.” She assured him.

And Steve believed her.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

**Chapter 8**

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

Yggdrasil Centre for Neurosciences, 4:55 pm

Bruce and Jane watched Tony and Bucky in the Procedure Room, while T’Challa had taken over for Sam. He may be a prince, but that didn’t necessarily mean he had no clue of his own company’s tech. In fact, T'Challa had been one of the first persons to test the device to see if they could improve something. Although he hadn’t Bucky's abilities, it had been certainly a unique experience to indulge into Bucky’s mind.

Normally he would stick to his administrative duties. But today was different. After Sam had called and told them, what had happened to Darcy, T'Challa had been shocked. He liked Darcy. The young woman was intelligent and sassy – two character traits, which couldn’t be found together very often. He had even offered her a job at Wakanda Inc., when she was done with college. Darcy hadn’t said yes then, but also not no.

So, he had told Sam to stay with Darcy's mom and let know if he could do anything to help the police. Bucky had already started his session with Tony during lunch break, which lasted until now. He was watching Sam's monitor and helped, where he could.

**Ring** .

Suddenly, the wall phone in the Control Room started to ring. Jane, Bruce and T'Challa looked puzzled at each other, before the black male turned on his chair and stood up, walking up to the spot, where the phone was hanging, and took the receiver, holding it close to his ear.

“Udaku.” He answered.

Listening to the voice at the other end of the line, his brows furrowing, when the caller explained his request.

“Well, I have to ask, Helen. We’re in the middle of a session. I don’t know if he wants to be disturbed. Can you wait a moment, please?” T'Challa said.

He covered the lower part with his hand and turned to the two scientists.

“Bruce, I have Helen at the other end of the phone. SHIELD has found this serial killer, who kidnapped Ms. Lewis. Apparently, he’s in a sort of catatonic state and SHIELD wants to use the machine to find out about her whereabouts.

I’ve told her that we’re in the middle of a session. But three agents are already on their way. Do you think Bucky would approve, if we interrupt him like this?” he asked the others.

Bruce sighed and looked into the other room. Bucky hated it, when someone interrupted his session. But this was about Sam and Darcy. Bucky would eventually understand.

He turned to T'Challa and replied:

“Tell her it’s okay. We’ve got this.”

T'Challa nodded and withdrew his hand, returning to his conversation.

“Helen? You can tell your colleagues they can come. Although I really can’t promise anything.” He told her.

At the other side, Helen thanked him nevertheless, before she ended the call. T'Challa put down the receiver and walked back to Sam's station to retrieve his jacket. Bruce eyed him.

“You're not going to help me with the emergence procedure?” he asked.

The Wakandan shook his head.

“Our guests are arriving any minute. I’m going to send over Okoye to help you with it. Is that alright?” he suggested.

“Okay. Let me know when they are here?” the curly-haired scientist asked. T'Challa bobbed his head in confirmation, before he exited the room and let the others work in peace.

 

Much to Steve's and Nat’s surprise, it didn’t Fury take long to call a chopper. There had been one near Rumlow's house, who had immediately made the short flight to SIUH to pick them up. In less than five minutes, they were up in the air again and flying towards Hamilton Heights. Helen had called them a few minutes later mid-air and told them that the Centre had its own landing site and that one of the admins would wait for them.

When the helicopter finally reached Hamilton Heights, Steve could see that the Centre itself was impossible not to notice. It consisted of a series of well-secured, architectonically interesting buildings, which formed the shape of a life tree. Steve could barely resist a smile. Now he knew, why the Centre had been named after the Great Tree from Norse Mythology.

They touched down on the Centre’s HeliPad, which was on the rooftop in the “Crown” of the tree-shaped compound. A black man in an expensive looking, dark suit and wearing a delicate, golden fang necklace over a black turtleneck waited at the faraway entrance – probably the administrator.

The man waited, until the rotors had slowed down enough so that the three Agents could get out of the aircraft and rush over to the less windy corner, where T'Challa greeted them.

“Welcome to YCONS. I’m T'Challa Udaku.” He introduced himself, offering them his hand. Steve, Fury and Natasha shook them one after another, before Fury took out his badge, showing to the man.

“I’m Director Fury and these are Agent Rogers and Agent Romanoff. They oversee the case. Did Dr. Cho tell you why we are here?”

T'Challa nodded.

“We are aware about what happened to Ms. Lewis and what you try to achieve with your visit. Nevertheless, I can’t promise you anything right now. You’d have to ask our Psychological Engineer about your request, because he’s the one who’d have to make the journey.”

Fury grimaced.

“And where can I find him?” he demanded to know.

T'Challa gestured to the glass door.

“If you’d follow me please. I’ll show you.” He replied. The black male opened the entrance and waited for them to step into the building.  There, he took his place at the front next to Fury and led them along a long hallway.

Steve couldn’t help but look around. Everything was so light and transparent with the glass walls not only letting in the light, but also allowing glances at other departments of the Centre. No wonder that it was shaped like a tree. Within these buildings, he felt like a bird in the leafage.

At the right end of the hallway were two entrances – one was labelled “Control Room” and the bigger one “Procedure Room”. Next to the Procedure Room was a view window, through which the Agents could see everything inside.

One moment, it was still dark there, but they could see the shapes of two human beings. The next moment, warm lights brightened up the room and they could see two people hanging in mid-air, one grown-up and one adolescent.

“We’re about to start the emergence procedure. If everything’s going its way as it should, you will have the opportunity to speak to him.  But for now, please follow me to our conference room and I will answer your questions, as far as I can.” T'Challa asked them. He opened the door and let the Agents through.

Steve's gaze lingered for one more second on the two figures, before he walked on, briefly wondering if this all would work out.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

_ Tony's world, 5:00 pm _

_ At Tony's work table, Bucky sat on a chair opposite him, watching the teen work on his newest creation – a laser-shooting gauntlet for his right hand, powered with the same source of energy that lighted up his devise in his chest. _

_ He loved to watch him work. And the best thing was…No sign of Obie. Bucky shifted a little bit and then cleared his throat. _

_ “Tony?” he asked carefully, stretching out his metal arm. The Teen stopped, what he was doing, and looked up from his work. _

_ “Yeah, Buck?” he asked, his eyes resting on the shining alloy. _

_ “Don’t you think it’s a bit sticky and warm in here? Why don’t we go a little bit outside? Enjoy the fresh air and a bit of sunshine.” He suggested. Tony's facial expression became unsure. His eyes darted back and forth between the inviting metallic limb and his own version. _

_ Suddenly, he began to shake violently and rabbitted into his favourite dark corner. Bucky wondered, what was happening now, until he noticed that his left hand was trembling. _

_ “Hey, I’m not signalling.” Bucky said puzzled. He looked above and could barely avoid shouting angrily in the boy’s presence. “What the hell are you doing? I’m not signalling.” His hand tensed and shook uncontrollably. _

_ From out of nowhere, Bruce's voice sounded through the cave like a deity from the heavens. _

_ “…Haven't felt like this, my dear…” it spoke. _

_ In his corner, Tony whimpered, when hearing the voice. Bucky wanted to go to him, comfort him. But he found that he couldn’t move. He tried to call out for home, but his throat constricted, making speech almost impossible. _

_ “I’m not…” he croaked, clutching his throat with his flesh hand, before the cave shattered into millions of tiny pieces. _

 

**The Real World, 5:05 pm**

“…Haven't felt like this, my dear…” Bruce said the words into his microphone.

“…Since I can't remember when…“ Bucky whispered in the adjoining room, his voice rough.

Bruce exhaled in relief.

“…It's been a long, long time…” he continued, waiting for Bucky to reply.

“…It's been a long, long time…” Bucky hissed, his eyes cracking open, as he was lowered down on the pedestal. His face was still covered with the cloth. Then, with a small whirring sound, it was pulled up and the ceiling of the cave replaced with the ceiling and the overhead lights of the Laboratory.

He had to wait a moment, until his mind was his own again, before he heaved himself up into an upright position. One the base next to him, Tony made no move, as usual. The interconnecting door opened and Bruce came through with a large bottle of his favourite sports drink. A black woman with very short hair followed them. Bucky only knew that her name was Okoye and she was one of T'Challa's staff.

He frowned. What was she doing here? And where was Sam? It wasn’t his day off. He accepted the bottle from Bruce and took a swig. Watching, as Okoye gently picked up Tony and sat him down into his wheelchair, he became worried. Bruce would never be forcing him back without a good reason.

“What happened?” Bucky asked, taking another sip. Bruce handed him a hair tie and Bucky pulled his hair back into a man-bun.

“I’m sorry for forcing you back, but you were in there for hours and we kind of have an emergency situation.” He explained sheepishly. Bucky raised his eyebrows. Now, he was really worried.

“Bruce, what’s going on? And where is Sam?” he wanted to know.

The curly-haired man took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Sam is at Mrs. Lewis house. You must know that someone kidnapped Darcy on her way back to her class.”

Bucky's eyes went as wide as saucers. Someone kidnapped his bestie’s fiancée?

“Who?” he demanded to know.

“Crossbones.” Was Bruce's only answer.

Bucky sucked in a deep breath. Of course, it had to be Crossbones. Who hadn’t heard him of him? But his friend seemed to hide something.

“But I feel there’s more to the story.” He probed, glancing at Bruce's distraught face. The scientist only nodded.

“A few minutes ago, three SHIELD Agents have showed up. Apparently, they have caught Crossbones, but he is in a catatonic state. And they need to know, where Darcy is, before…Well, you know, how his victims end up.”

Bucky nodded. He knew that. A fate he wouldn’t even his arch nemesis leave to, let alone Darcy.

“Let me guess, they want me to enter his mind to find about her whereabouts.”

“Pretty much.”

Bucky took another sip of his isotonic water. His session had been long and exhausting, so entering a serial killer’s mind was not on top of his priority list. Still, it seemed they were in for a long night, since he couldn’t deny Sam at least a try. He sighed and stood up.

“Fine, I’ll talk to them. Then, I’ll decide.”

Bruce beamed at him and clapped his shoulder.

“Just wait a moment here. Jane and I are coming with you.”

Bucky nodded his head and waited, occasionally sipping from his bottle and wondering what he was getting into.

 

Steve hated waiting.

It always made anxious. Sure, T'Challa had been nice, answered every question within his capabilities, offered them something to drink. Then, Sam Wilson had shown up, completely out of breath, bombarding them with questions. Natasha had taken him aside and explained to him their next steps. Now, the man was calm, but still a mess.

Steve couldn’t blame him. Every passing minute, they were wasting in here, doubled the chances that his fiancée would turn up dead. He turned his head towards the door, hoping that the Centre’s staff member would turn up any moment.

Suddenly, his eyes widened almost comically and he inhaled sharply, as the world’s most gorgeous, male specimen - wearing some sort of bodysuit that left nothing to his imagination - entered the room, followed by two scientists.

Brown hair, tied into a tight bun at the base of the neck; stormy-blue eyes that seemed to see into his very soul; a jaw to kill for; solid, perfectly muscled frame and thighs; pink lips, which he wouldn’t mind having wrapped around his dick.

The man looked as if he came right from an Armani runway. Oh god, I’ve finally losing my mind, Steve thought, trying to look anywhere but the model.

Natasha had heard Steve’s inhale and was about to ask if he was okay, when her gaze fell on the man-candy walking in. Immediately, a devilish grin appeared on her natural, pale face. Poor Steve. In the middle of a case and he met a perfect specimen of his preferred type, when it came to men. This was too good.

She elbowed him in the arm and mouthed: “Stop drooling, Steve! You can do that later.”

Steve flushed a deep red and looked instead at the ceiling, even though he found nothing of interest there.

T'Challa, on the other side, stood up and cleared his throat.

“Agents, may I introduce you to our team? Dr. Banner and Dr. Foster and Mr. James Barnes, our resident Psychological Engineer.” The three agents nodded, although Steve still refused to meet Bucky’s eyes.

“Bruce, Jane, James, these are SHIELD agents Rogers, Romanoff and Fury.” Jane, Bruce and Bucky, whose eyes checked out the blond Agent, nodded back.

“Please take your seats, so that we can start this meeting.” T'Challa said. The Lab team did as they were told, and took place opposite the Agents. However, it was pure coincidence that Bucky just faced the blond agent, who didn’t seem to want to look at him. The reason for that, though, amused Bucky deeply, although he hid it quite well behind his usual mask of indifference.

To be honest, Bucky had expected some older, balding men in ugly beige trench coats and ill-fitting suits. Instead, he found a deadly-looking redhead, a grim-faced black man, who not only looked like a pirate, but also had the attitude of one, and a real life Greek demigod with an impossible shoulder-to-waist ratio hidden under that dark blue suit of his.

Although it had been years since his last real relationship, Bucky had to admit to himself that he felt some sort of invisible pull to this fine specimen. It was probably, because the blond Agent matched everything he liked in men. If it not were for the current circumstances, he’d invite him for coffee or something that normal people would do.

But not now. He turned his head to Sam, who happened to sit to his right and looked like he was breaking down every moment. Bucky felt his deep-running pain and despair, mostly because Sam had no idea, where his Darcy was right now and if she was still alive. He put a comforting hand on his best friend’s arm, while secretly sneaking glances at this Agent Rogers, who not so secretly did the same thing.

Steve blinked owlishly at him, while his red-headed partner could barely stifle a laugh, but flushed again, when he realized that James more than likely had noticed.

Just then, Fury cleared his throat and stood up.

“Before we start this, I want to apologize for this short notice. But it's kind of urgent. As it seems, you all know Ms. Lewis on a personal level. So, I’m pretty sure you also want to do everything in your power to bring her back. Unfortunately, our suspect has fallen in a comatose state and is unable to tell us, where she is. Maybe, with your help, we can prevent that she ends like…” He spoke up and pressed a button on the TV remote. “…This…”

The TV, which was mounted to the wall, flickered to life and one selected section from the surveillance footage from Rumlow’s house began to play. It showed a blonde woman in some kind of self-developed cell, which was steadily filling up with water.

Bucky could feel her rising panic, which threatened to swallow her, just like the masses of water. When the Cell was finally filled with water, Bucky had trouble breathing. He could feel her life seep away from, her light diminishing for good.

Next to him, Sam made a wounded noise and all Bucky could do, was giving him all the comfort as his friend. So, he let Sam squeeze his hand, let him pour his pain into Bucky's body. Suddenly, Bucky received a strange reading from his opposite sitting counterpart.

He glanced at the Agent and frowned. The blond man wasn’t looking at the screen, but stared at the wall above Bucky's head. Noticing his tensed jaw and gritted teeth, the Brunette couldn’t help but wonder, if the woman had been someone close to him - maybe a girlfriend or a sibling.

When the footage stopped, everyone turned away from the TV. Bruce, Jane and T'Challa looked disgusted, while Sam just looked pale. The woman and Fury hid their repulsion behind a neutral mask. Sam, just like Agent Rogers, couldn’t watch the video. The death cries alone had been enough for them to have a minor nervous breakdown.

Finally, Bruce spoke up.

“When did he fall into this state?” he asked.

Fury pushed over the file with Cho's results from the tests in SIUH. Bruce took it and flipped through the pages.

“When we stormed into his house. Attacked out STRIKE leader with some high energy batons, before he dropped down like a dead fly, bleeding from the nose and ears.

You must understand. Each tape is the same.  He provides food, drinking water, a toilet. Periodically, a shower starts.  It's on some kind of timer - he's clever with    machines, building things. We think he wants them to believe this is a simple kidnapping. That there's a possibility of rescue. Of survival.  But it's just a form of torture. 

At the end, the drain shuts.  The water starts and doesn't stop. We've already lost precious time. If she isn't found soon…She dies like the rest.” The Director explained.

Bruce sighed and showed Jane Helen's results.

“Hmmm, no sign of a stroke or an aneurysm. Blood comes probably from the high blood pressure.” Jane mused. Bruce nodded in agreement.

“Well, I’ve already called Maria and Loki. They and the Board of Directors have given their approval. And there will no objections from Wakanda Inc. or myself. So, it's up to you to decide.” T'Challa answered, resting his eyes on Bucky.

“But what about the legalities of this…?” Bruce objected.

Fury sighed.

“Mr. Rumlow is in our custody. The functional equivalent of being under arrest. Normally, we'd Mirandize him, and if he didn't choose a lawyer for himself, we'd interrogate him. But because of the condition he is in, he doesn't have the capacity to waive those rights.” He explained.

Jane narrowed her eyes at that.

“So, what you're asking us to do is kind of...illegal?” she retorted, not liking this at all.

“No, not at all. How can I explain this? We're dealing here with exigent circumstances. Somewhere out there, Ms. Lewis is still alive. If we weigh Mr. Rumlow’s Constitutional Rights against the public safety…Let’s say, the Law favours the victim and gives us a lot of flexibility. It's called the Public Safety Exception.”

“What exactly does that mean for you?” Bruce demanded know. Just like Jane, he didn’t want to be part of something illegal.

“It means that we can do pretty much anything we want.  There's a chance to save a human life. Because of that, Rumlow has no reasonable expectation of privacy.” Fury clarified.

Jane and Bruce looked at each other. What the Director had said, sounded plausible. However, Bucky remained unconvinced.

“So, what if…?” he began to speak. Immediately, all eyes were on him. Bucky ignored the strange feeling and continued. “So, what if he weren’t in this state? What if he was “normal”? How far would you go then?”

Fury stared at him.

“As far as I need to.” was his answer.

Bucky pressed his lips together and nodded. Having analysed Fury’s eyes, gestures and body language during these brief moments of eye contact, he had no doubt that the Director would do anything to reach his goals – even selling his own grandmother.

“I mean there’s always a chance that he might confess.” Fury argued further.

“You think so? Listen, I don’t work with such violent normally. I work with kids and young adults. If there’s one thing I have learned, then it’s that even      kids lie. Because they love it when they get you to believe something that isn't entirely accurate. Don't you think that this Rumlow would do  the same?”

Fury shrugged his shoulders.

“Sometimes maybe...But I’ve learned that once they've been caught, they feel a need for disclosure. They have so much they want to tell, maybe prepare the world for something bigger.

Maybe I should tell you that these aren’t his first victims. Crossbones is active since the beginning of the 90’s. Only that his victims then were disguised as unfortunate accidents. But in the last few weeks, he has changed his modus operandi and now he’s escalating. We just found his newest victim, one of our own, and not even two hour later, he kidnapped Ms. Lewis. What do you think he’s trying to achieve?”

Bucky sighed, still holding Fury’s probing gaze. He couldn’t deny that it made sense.

“You think he’s trying to make a statement, because something terrible is going to happen very soon?” he responded. Fury just nodded.

“Okay, let’s assume it's like that. The problem is that people with his disorder sever all ties with the real world, not being able to distinguish between reality and fantasy anymore. Even if he’s still in there, it’d take me months to build up a certain level of trust, so that he’d even consider telling me about her whereabouts. Not to mention the potential risks of entering such a dark mind.” Bucky explained.

There was silence in the meeting room after that. Jane and Bruce didn’t say anything, because they just knew that Bucky had a point. Steve and Nat, on the other side, were impressed. Not anyone had the balls to stand up to Fury. Unfortunately, it made Steve's crush just a little bit bigger.

Suddenly, Sam let out a whimper from next to Bucky’s side, reminding them why they were her.

“Please, Bucky! Don’t let her die.” He whispered, squeezing his best friend’s hand as hard as he could.

Bucky's heart went out to his friend, although still torn between saying yes and no to this daring undertaking.

Meanwhile, Steve screamed internally. He saw that James was in a conflict. But just seeing the way he cared about his friend, it made his heart flutter like a hummingbird. If he only could go with him to minimize the risk…

He inhaled sharply and a really, really stupid idea came into his mind. Sharon would kick his ass for that. But then, it's been a long, long time since he’d been in the dating game.

“Sorry to ask, but what if I would come with you?” he blurted out, earning raised eyebrows not only from Nat, but everyone except James, who stared unbelievingly at him.

“What?” it escaped him.

Steve felt himself flushing red again. But he stayed strong and repeated his question.

“I know it’s really stupid…” which earned him a hissed “No shit, Sherlock!” from Natasha, but Steve ignored it. “…but what I mean is, if I can accompany James. I know Rumlow better than any of you and would be able to help.” He managed to get out.

Everyone kept staring at him, until Fury turned his head to the Lab Team.

“Is it possible that Agent Rogers can undergo the procedure to join you man?”

Jane and Bruce looked unsure at each other, before Bruce answered.

“Surely, it's possible, but still dangerous for laymen. You sure you're want to take the risk.”

Steve snorted.

“Believe me, I’ve been in worse places.”

Bruce sighed and turned to look at James.

“Well, it's up to you.” He finally said.

James looked at Bruce, then at Sam and finally at Steve, hiding behind a carefully placed mask, before he finally sighed.

“Looks like we’re working overtime today, guys. I better call Mrs. Parker, so that she can take care of Winter, while I’m here. I don’t want him to get grumpy.” He said, standing up from the chair he was sitting. He turned to Bruce. “Do you think they still have some leftovers in the cafeteria? I’ll think I’ll need some sustenance, when we’re going to do this.”

Jane, Sam and Bruce also got up.

“Don’t worry. I asked Luke to keep you from that chicken casserole, which you love so much, and two slices of his homemade apple pie. He probably left some vanilla ice, too.” Bruce replied. James nodded approvingly. He sneaked a silent glance at Steve.

“See you then, Agent Rogers.” He said to him in a soft voice, shooting him a small smile. Steve blushed, ignoring the inexplicable flutter in his gut, but it seemed that James had given them his approval this way.

Before the Lab Gang left the conference room, Bruce turned to T'Challa and Fury one last time, asking:

“How fast can you get him here?”

“Within the hour.” Fury answered. Bruce looked at his watch.

“Okay, we could start at six o’clock then. Could you keep us informed, when he has arrived at last?”

T'Challa nodded.

“I will call you.” He promised, before he turned his attention back to Fury. “Is there something else you need?”

“Maybe a room, which my Tech Team can set up as a temporary base.” The director asked.

“That’s no problem.” T'Challa gave as an answer, before he looked amused at Natasha and Steve, who were bickering whether Steve may have or have not been smoking something illegal, when he volunteered to undergo the procedure with the HMC (Hot Man-Candy).

Fury cleared his throat to get their attention. Both went silent and looked at their boss like two naughty children, who had been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

“Okay, we have much to do. Rogers, stop flirting with the HMC until this case. Natasha, call Phil. He ought to send FitzSimmons over to set up the base. I’m calling Helen so that she can organize Rumlow’s transport here.” He ordered, before strolling out of the room.

“Nat, can you ask Phil to bring Peggy’s SSR file with him. It’s on my desk and I hadn’t had the chance to look through it, yet. Maybe you can find something in it, while I’m under.” Steve asked his best friend.

“Don’t worry, Steve. I’ll got it.” She patted his shoulder. Both Agents stood up and walked up to the Admin.

“Thank you for your help, Mr. Udaku.” Natasha thanked him.

T'Challa smiled at them.

“You’re welcome, Agent Romanoff. It's the least I can do for Darcy. And please call me T'Challa. We’re on first name basis in this house.” He offered them.

“I’m Natasha, then. And this is Steve.” Nat said.

“Thank you, T'Challa.” Steve also thanked him.

“Let’s just hope that everything goes without complications.” The administrator answered.

Steve hoped so, too.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

Yggdrasil Centre for Neurosciences, 5:50 pm

**Whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop.**

**Pounding reverberations...**

**Whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop.**

The remaining staff at the Centre watched, as another helicopter descended from the sky onto the pad and a figure on a stretcher was removed from the side. With a mix of human curiosity and comprehensible fear, they watched as the accompanying SHIELD escort wheeled the stretcher fast through the corridor.

A temporary base had been set up in a meeting room one floor below the actual lab. Phil had really brought everything from their office, including Steve's file.

Hundreds of photographs, drawings, diagrams, maps, blueprints, and documents – their case material - covered every available inch of the walls.  All over the table, reference books, atlases, telephones, a fax machine, shortwave radio, and computer/Internet terminal were scattered.

FitzSimmons had just completed setting up the electronics work and now tried to point out the "speed dial" functions to Fury, Steve and Natasha.

“Okay, we have set up direct lines to the Triskelion, the 30 th precinct and the State Police.” Jemma explained. Then she pointed at the shortwave radio. “Direct link to the chopper. He can be here within five minutes after your request.” She gestured to the computer terminal. “That gets you into SHIELD’s database and you can send an email to Daisy. She’s staying overnight at the office, if you have any questions.”

“Thanks, guys!” Natasha chirped.

Jemma and Leo packed up their things.

“So, we’re done. And good luck!” they chorused, before leaving the room with Fury in tow, who wanted to make sure that Rumlow was properly secured.

When the three had left the room, Natasha turned to her best friend.

“You sure you still want to go through with this?” she asked him.

Steve stared at the wall of pictures, especially Sharon's and Darcy's photos.

“What else can we do?” he whispered.

Natasha raised her eyebrows.

“Really? And here I thought you do it, because you get to spend time with that cute Psychological Engineer.” She deadpanned, knowing exactly which button to push to torment her friend. Steve’s furious blush was all the evidence she needed.

“Just kidding, Steve. I’m just worried that this is going to be too much for you.” She said.

Steve sighed.

“I know. But tell you what...If this thing burns us, I take that heat. And I give you specific permission to point your finger at me and say "It  was all his idea.". Deal?” he suggested.

A devilish grin began to spread all over Nat’s face.

“Deal.” She chuckled and patted his broad back.

Just then, a knock at the door caught their attention. T'Challa appeared in the doorway.

“Natasha, Director Fury waits for you in the Lab. They are almost ready for the procedure. Steve, if you would follow me to the ground level to the changing area. We need to know if one of the bodysuits fits you.” He replied.

Steve took a deep breath. He’d really it – linking himself to an unknown device to enter a serial killer’s mind, together with an insanely hot engineer. Sharon would have approved his new level of stupidity.

He nodded and turned his head to Nat.

“See you in a few minutes.” He told her, before he followed T'Challa to the dressing area.

 

James was already waiting there, the upper half of his suit hanging down from his waist, revealing a perfectly developed six-pack. Steve closed his eyes for a moment, thinking of something completely different to put a stop to the flow of blood, which threatened to rush down south, before he opened them again.

“You alright?” James asked worried.

Steve just nodded.

“Just nervous. I’ve never done something like this before.” He said sheepishly.

James chuckled.

“There’s no need. Most of my cases are like a vacation from reality. You just need some time to get used to. Why don’t you get out of your clothes and try on that suit?” he assured Steve and gestured with his metal arm to the suit, who was hanging at a locker.

Steve stared at James, because HOLY SHIT. That arm was a thing of beauty. Interlocking plates, real looking digits, probably connected to the nervous system.

“Your arm is cool.” It blurted out of him. James raised an eyebrow. Steve wanted to smack himself for saying that out loud.

To his surprise, James smiled at him.

“Thanks. My own creation. By the way, you can call me Bucky. Everyone calls me that.”

Steve blinked.

“Oh…Ahem, I’m Steve.” He stuttered, while trying to get the buttons of his shirt to open.

“Nice to meet you, Steve. I’d love to keep talking to you, but they wait for us in the lab, so we better hurry.” James, no, Bucky suggested with a grin, while he peeled himself out of the suit he had been wearing in the conference room. He put him onto the bench and opened his locker, taking out a second suit.

While the first one had been brown, this one was completely black, except for his left sleeve. It had the same pattern as his arm, only that a red star adorned the shoulder. All in all, it was a really awesome suit, which would make Bucky look like an alien soldier straight out of a videogame.

Steve blushed again, when a very nice backside was suddenly facing him, and briefly wondered, if someone could die of too much blushing. He turned around and quickly stripped down to nothing. Then he walked up to where his suit was hanging, and groaned. The suit was dark-blue and had a white star with stylized white wings on his chest.

He whirled and just whined “Why?” at Bucky, who at least had the tendency to look apologetic.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Since we mostly work with children, we have a wide range of comic book hero suits. We had to guess your size, so the Captain America suit is the only one that will fit.” Bucky apologized.

“It's okay. It's just that my nickname in the Army was and still is “Captain America. I hate it.”

“You’re a vet?”

Steve nodded.

“Okay. Why don’t you try to put it on as far as you can? I’ll help you with the rest. It’s like putting on a wetsuit.” Bucky advised, his eyes not so subtly checking out the other man. 

“I know. I’ve worn some in my army time.”

Bucky just nodded and slid his arms into the upper part of his suit, zipping it without any help, while Steve managed to get into his without much trouble. He pulled it up to his waist and slipped his arms into both sleeves.

“Do you need some help with the zipper?” Bucky asked from behind.

“If it's not too much trouble…” Steve replied.

“Not at all.” The brunette retorted.

Bucky's fingers ghosted over the thick material of the suit, smoothing not existent wrinkles. Steve secretly shivered at the feeling of Bucky’s fingers wandering down his back. They finally found their destination and zipped up the back of the suit.

His fingertips stayed a little bit longer than they really should, but Steve didn’t mind so much. Bucky, however, seemed to realize his faux pas and patted Steve’s back for a short moment, before he took them back.

“Well, we’ll should get going then.” Bucky announced, clapping his hands together, before falling into an awkward silence.

“Yeah, we should do that.” Steve replied just as awkwardly.

Bucky nodded and closed his locker, before he led Steve back into the lounge, where they took the elevator to the top level.

 

In the lab, Natasha joined Fury in the Control Room. The SHIELD Director eyed every piece of machinery with such explicit interest that Natasha wondered, if he had hidden a camera in his eyepatch, attempting that way to get his hands on new tech. Through the large view window, they watched as Rumlow's escort undid the cuffs from his ankles and wrists.

Bruce showed them, where to put the patient. The agents wheeled the gurney into the Procedure Room, following the scientist. After T'Challa had shown them out, Jane had sealed the room shut, so that only a staff member with the proper authorization code could open it from outside. Then, the doctor began to check Rumlow's pulse, pupil dilation, IV and vitals.

While Bruce prepared Rumlow for the procedure, Sam went to his station and let Jane explain the computer to the Agents.

“So, this is Bruce's, Bucky’s and my baby – The Neurological Cartography and Synaptic Transfer System. It provides a highly detailed map of the human mind, but not the brain - any average MRI can do that. I’m talking about  **The Mind** . It reads and processes electronically allowing information to be transferred and interrupted.” She described proudly. When she saw Natasha's and Fury's questioning face, she sighed.

“How can I explain that in normal English? Let's say your thoughts could be stored on DVD.  If someone had the right kind of player, they could watch and listen to what you're thinking. The only problem is that we can't record or store the data, because the connections between nerve cells are constantly being modified.

It's like the early days of television. The subject sends out a live feed and you receive it during time of broadcast. Whatever happens, happens.  All you have to do is "tune in.". But you do more than tune in...You become part of the show.” she clarified for them.

 

In the other room, Bruce listened to Jane's speech, frighteningly fascinated by Rumlow's scars, especially by the tattoo on the back and the remnants of the extreme piercings. He had seen in the file, what kind of piercings exactly had been there and why they had been there. But after seeing photos of the mechanism in Rumlow's hidden basement, which had given Bucky the creeps, the engineer had mused that it was for hanging himself up; to hover over his victim like some sort of tentacle monster from a bad hentai anime.

After removing his clothes, Bruce took his washing utensils out of a small cabinet in the corner of the room and started giving him an alcohol bath, cleaning the skin, his wash cloth moving under  Rumlow’s chin and over his face. Around the eyes, he’s careful. But there’s something about them, which prevented him to look at them for too long.

Just then, Bucky and Steve, dressed in their bodysuits, entered the room. In the Control Room, Natasha, and Fury too, were loudly cracking up, when they caught sight of Steve in all his glorious captaincy.

Although she had to wait, until Bucky and Bruce had fit Rumlow into one of the suits, she went through the adjoining door into the room. She needed to be sure that Steve was okay with going through that.

Natasha took her best friend aside, who was looking with awe at the room. Bucky had explained him on their way up the device’s function and Steve was excited and fascinated by its possibilities.

“You’re still sure about this?” she asked for the third time.

Steve rolled his eyes.

“Yeeesss, Nat.” He stressed out.

Next to him, Bucky just zipped up Rumlow's suit.

“Well, I hope you like the aftereffects.” He all chuckled.

Steve frowned at him.

“What aftereffects? I mean…how hard could it be?” he enquired.

Bucky looked at Steve with his beautiful blue eyes. Steve quite loved the small smile that was playing on Bucky's lips. Maybe because it was directed at him. But also, Bruce did not his best to hide his laughter. Bucky looked at his friend.

“The first...Was it the first? The Six or seven times I went in. Remember what happened?”

Bruce laughed.

“Disorientation, nausea, migraines, hallucinations, insomnia, paranoia.” He counted off the symptoms.

“Just like a good old hangover.” Bucky replied.

“Great.”

While Steve had first doubts, whether he was doing the right thing, Bucky rolled Rumlow on his back and connected him to the suspension apparatus, while Natasha took Bruce aside. Taking a glance at his name badge, she had to ask him a very important question.

“Bruce…Can I call you Bruce?” Bruce nodded and Natasha introduced herself by her surname. “Natasha. Bruce, I really need a printout from Steve in that suit. It’s important that I get it.” She said, ignoring Steve's whined “Nat, please don’t.”.

Bruce adjusted his glasses.

“No problem. We have video surveillance. I can get you a print.”

Natasha put on her best “I’m-a-cat-that-just-caught-a-fat-canary” smile and patted Bruce on his back. “I think we’re going to be good friends, Bruce.” She replied, glaring at Steve, when he tried to protest. Just then, she went back into the other room to oversee the procedure.

Bruce then checked Steve's vitals, before he told him to lay down on the outer pedestal. He connected the suspension device to the suit.

“Why do you do this?” Steve asked.

“Because our patients are comforted by the feeling of weightlessness. It's like floating in water or zero gravity in space.” He explained.

Steve nodded. He could understand that. It was a bit like flying, the feeling of freedom and limitlessness.

Meanwhile, Bucky laid down on the middle pedestal and connected himself to the suspension device. Bruce walked up to him.

“Please be careful, Bucky. You don’t know what’s in there.” He pleaded with a glance at Rumlow's head.

Bucky nodded.

“I always am, Bruce.” He reassured his friend. Then he turned his head to the right. “Good Luck, Steve. See you there.”

“You, too.” Steve replied with a small smile. He was nervous as hell, but he did this for Sharon. And Darcy.

Bruce prepared a series of chemical cartridges and loaded them into a container, which was connected to the IV-like tubes linked to the suspension device. Although reluctantly, Bruce retreated to his monitoring station in the Control Room. Then he locked down the Procedure Room and joined Jane, Sam, Fury and Natasha at the console.

Natasha kept her eyes on the monitor for the chemicals.

“That’s the stuff?” She asked.

Bruce nodded.

“About thirteen years of research, right Jane?”

“Don’t remind me. Worst thirteen years ever.” Jane groaned.

“And what exactly is in there?” Natasha wanted to know.

“Psychostimulants, serotonin, stabilizers, meprobamate, Neurontin, lithium carbonate.  And my baby – a special development.  It duplicates and expands upon the effects of a chemical called oxytocin, forcing a break in the neuron connections that hold experience. It means that new experience can form.” Bruce explained.

Although Natasha didn’t understand, what he was saying, she found the whole process interesting.

In the other room, Bucky pressed the bump on her metal hand.  At the same time, a red indicator light flashed on.

“There's a touch-sensitive microchip built in inside his prosthetic hand.  If he becomes frightened, disoriented, or simply wants to end the session, he can send us a signal this way.” Bruce said.

Bucky pressed again and the red light shut off.

“It’s just some of failsafe. Since none of what Bucky experiences is real, he can be tricked into thinking it is. Unfortunately, the mind is awfully gullible, so he needs to monitor herself.”

Steve, Bucky and Bucky hung suspended from the ceiling. Jane typed a few commands into her computer and the lights were dimmed to a more sombre, tranquil level. Various screens flickered to life, displaying the vital signs of both "feed" and receive." Then, Bruce initiated the injection program.

 

In the Procedure Room, the chemicals were mixed with Bucky’s blood and then feed into the IV.  At the console , as Jane continued to type furiously at the computer keyboard, Natasha asked Bruce:

“What’s so special about James. Jane said he has a "gift."

Bruce pointed at a section of Bucky’s "mind map."

“Not a gift. A highly evolved area in his cerebral cortex, that's all.  A genetic fluke.” He explained.

“He’s an empath.” The redheaded agent deducted with awe in her voice.

Bruce nodded.

“Bucky has a tremendous capacity for empathy. When we first started, there were a number of test subjects - other therapists – who acted as "receivers." All they did was observe and report.  Nothing more.  But Bucky, he had the ability to feel what was happening. He understood. And the patient responded. Tony engaged him in dialogue, showed him things. He knew he cared.” He replied.

A hopeful, solemn Natasha gazed through the window, watching as Steve's and Bucky's bodies aligned to Rumlow’s...

In the Procedure Room, Bucky took a deep breath. The drugs took finally effect, feeling himself losing consciousness. He took a glance at Rumlow, a man who tortures and kills women, and then at Steve, an Agent, who went voluntarily with him, although he had just met him. Then he looked up as the cloth masks descended from the ceiling.

“Intravenous administration complete.” Bruce said into the microphone.

“Initiating connection.” Jane replied.

Fibrous wires were running from Bucky’s mask to Rumlow’s and Steve’s. Their blood was mixing with chemicals in the IV-like containers.  The computer system was humming like a swarm of hummingbirds.

“Transfer begins at 1800 hours, 34 minutes, 12 seconds.” Jane announced.

Bucky’ eyes focused on the mask. As it came closer, he could see the lining laced with thread-like wires and microchips forming hyper-miniature circuit boards. Bucky’s eyes blinked. As the mask covered his face, his eyes went shut.

His vision faded. Became Darkness. A faint light. Microscopic veins in the eyelid became wires connected to chips.

Then it all vanished into a green vortex.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

End of Part 1!

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭


	3. Part II: You’re in my world now (And I’ve got friends on the other side)

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

**Part II: You’re in my world now (And I’ve got friends on the other side)**

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

**Chapter 1**

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

_ Inside Brock's World _

_ Steve was really flying. _

_ He was falling through a black and neon-green vortex with such intricate and interweaving circuitry that it made Neo and the Matrix look like a preschooler in a suburban kindergarten. Bucky was just a few metres ahead. Steve used a technique from his army time, which he had learned during his paratrooper training, to get closer to him. He pressed his legs together and kept his arms close to his body, increasing his own speed this way. Slowly, but steadily he shortened his distance between himself and his “guide”. _

_ “Hey, Buck!” he shouted, strangely enough without an echo. Bucky turned his head towards him with a smile. _

_ “So, how’s your first impression?” he asked. _

_ “Like I’m in the middle of some weird “Matrix” clone.” Steve replied. _

_ Bucky chuckled. _

_ “Sure, the “Matrix might be cool, but this is the real stuff, Stevie.” He laughed.  _

_ Steve reddened, because he quite liked Bucky’s laugh. The Brunette was acting so much different here than he had in the real world. Probably, because in here he could do something, which the rest of mankind couldn’t. Or maybe Bucky was just lacking social competence outside his trusted circle of friends. Not that it was a bad thing. Steve knew that not everyone in this world was confident enough like him and Nat. _

_ Still, Steve hoped that maybe, when this was all over, he’d have the guts to get to know Bucky better. On a coffee date, just to see if there was enough common ground for them. _

_ In front of them, the pattern of the electronics grows into something more _

_ organic, textured, concrete. Evolved into a world. Black and shadow-filled, it resembles…an old army base. An abandoned, withered army base from the Forties. _

_ But the strangest thing was the geological landscape it was built on. At each side, the base was in a basin surrounded by volcanic chains, arranged into a perfect circle. Most of them were active, some were not. The ones that were, spit so much fire and ashes that the sky above them was pitch-black. Streams of burning hot blue and orange lava ran down the mountainside of the Fire mountains, all of them ending up in a ring-shaped, bubbling lava lake around the base - just like a weird castle moat, but filled with liquid fire instead of cold water.  _

_ It was as if someone had catapulted a good portion of WWII military straight into Mordor. The only thing that was missing, was Sauron’s eye on his tower, surveilling his realm. _

_ Much to Steve's horror, the ground came closer and closer at an alarming rate. While his blood pressure reached new highs, Bucky looked relaxed. No wonder, it wasn’t his first trip, after all. So, Steve braced himself for the inevitable impact to come. _

_ It came hard. _

_ With a loud “Oomph”, Steve hit the solidified lava-ground. To his surprise, the expected pain didn’t come. Instead, he bounced back, as if he’d hit his mattress at home. Bucky, on the other side, rolled to the side, before he came to a stop. _

_ Steve remained lying on the lava-cushion ground, his eyes staring at the black sky. Everything…everything was so overwhelming. There was another thing he noticed. There was no smell. Volcanoes often smelled of sulphur and burnt metals. But here – there was no such thing. In the corner, he noticed movement, but remained still. _

_ Two sneaker-clad feet came closer and then, Bucky’s sheepish-looking (or should he say beautiful) face shoved itself into his field of vision. _

_ “It’s overwhelming, isn’t it?” he simply stated. Steve nodded. Bucky sighed. _

_ “Exactly the same thing happened to me the first time I went in. You’ll get used to it.” He explained, stretching out his flesh hand. Steve took it and let Bucky help him getting up. The brunette did so without difficulty. Only then, Steve noticed that he wasn’t wearing his suit anymore, but only a way too tight shirt, blue jeans and sneakers in the same colour. _

_ Bucky eyed him up from head to toe, raising his eyebrows skeptically, making Steve  _ **_absolutely not_ ** _ feel self-conscious. “What? Do I have something on my face? And why am I in civilian clothes?” he asked. Bucky shook his head. _

_ “No. But I’ve been just wondering, what you’ve been hiding under that suit of yours to get such weird body measurements. Now, I know. You're like a Dorito on muscled legs. It’s…nice!” Bucky complimented him. _

_ “Yeah, my friends say that all the time. I can’t help that puberty hit me late. You should have seen me before…Skinny little me, who always got into fights.” Steve said embarrassed. _

_ Bucky shook his head. _

_ “So, you’ve been and still are a spitfire. But to answer your question…the change of clothes is so that you feel more comfortable in an unknown environment.” He explained. _

_ Steve nodded. Good tactical move. Of course, he felt less stressed than he had been in the tight bodysuit. _

_ Suddenly, the sky above them rumbled dangerously. The ground under their feet shook slightly, before two of the inactive volcanoes erupted in a spectacular explosion, adding more ashes to the black sky. The lava lake moat started to blubber and to boil. Then, a big black shape slowly descended from the red-hot mass. It began to stroll towards them, much to Steve's astonishment. _

_ The closer it got, the clearer its form became. It was slowly morphing into the shape of a German Shepherd, his black fur streaked with orange-red lava streams. It wandered towards Bucky, sniffing his hand, before dismissing him and meandering towards one of the base’s buildings – the farther of the two ammunition bunkers, to be exact. Thereby, his fur became lighter, the closer he got to the bunker. Must be Rumlow's twisted version of Johann, Steve mused. _

_ Above them, the sky rumbled again. _

_ “We should get going or we’re going to lose our guide.” Bucky replied, his eyes never leaving the dog. _

_ Steve nodded to him, when something red hit his cheek. He looked upwards, and after a moment of odd quiet, another droplet of blood hit his other cheek. _

_ The next few moments seemed to pass in macroscopic super slow-motions, another blood droplet comes crashing down from the now black-red sky, hitting the burnt lava-ground. As more drops pounded the earth, splattered against the withered buildings and exploded into pools of stagnant water, Bucky grabbed Steve’s hand and pulled him towards the ammo bunker, where the dog just disappeared in. _

_ “Okay, now I see, why Nat was sceptical. This world is strange.” Steve gasped, while they run for shelter in the bunker. To their surprise, the entrance door was open. _

_ Inside the shelter…well, the only word to describe it was – filthy. Aside from the ever-present darkness, the floor was covered with filth, ash, pebbles, living and dead insects.  Water was also present in many manifestations - puddles, moisture, dripping ceilings. The blood rain was also still present, even inside. _

_ Both men turned took a few steps forward and were surprised to see the actual source of the rain. The now snow-white German Shepherd stood in a small room in front of a tub filled with water, shaking himself dry, as if he had just taken a bath in said tub, and causing the rain out – and inside. _

_ When the animal was satisfied, it stopped and trotted away. _

_ “That was bizarre.” Steve whispered, who had still some trouble adjusting to this nightmarish realm. But Bucky didn’t answer, only held up his flesh arm as a sign that Steve should be quiet now. While Bucky had heard it right away, Steve hadn’t heard it at first. _

_ Only now, he realized that somewhere, a child was crying. Bucky looked around, then through a crack in the floor. His eyes briefly caught sight of a boy beneath them, on a level lower than theirs. Just when Bucky wanted to address the boy, he disappears into a corridor ending, leading into nothing. _

_ “Come one.” Bucky stressed and grabbed Steve by the hand, pulling him further. They couldn’t lose the boy now. Bucky was sure that he’d lead them to Rumlow's sanctum. He caught sight of the boy quickly, sometimes from the corner of his eyes, sometimes directly. Steve just followed Bucky, since he was totally lost in here. _

_ Suddenly, both men stopped short. The boy had disappeared into a landscape. But not your ordinary landscape. _

_ “Holy Shit!” Steve exclaimed, his eyes getting bigger at what he saw. _

_ “Unbelievable!” Bucky joined him. He had only seen this on Art prints, but never in reality. _

_ Right in front of them was a massive landscape consisting of blocks, cubicles, crawlspace, walls, stairs, and ladders. Leading everywhere and nowhere. _

_ “This is just like a real-life version of M.C. Escher’s “Relativity”. It's so awesome. I wish Peggy could see this.” He said in awe. _

_ While he admired the artwork, Bucky tried to find the boy. Finally, he spotted the boy, as he crawled into a specific room two levels below. Shortly after, a light appeared within the cubicle and he could hear a loud scream coming from the room. _

_ Alarmed, Bucky looked for a way down on that floor and finally saw a long ladder, which led to a hallway down to that level. _

_ “Steve, there.” Bucky pointed at the ladder, before he continued. “The ladder seems to lead down on the boy’s level. Think you can get down without trying to fall?” he teased him. Steve snorted. _

_ “This is nothing compared to the Balkans. Believe me, even I got dizzy there and I’m normally free from giddiness.” He replied. _

_ “Good to know.” Bucky said knowingly. They crawled through a small tunnel, which seemed to last an eternity. The problem for Steve was that the passageway was so small and he had this ridiculous immense shoulder, which shouldn’t be able to fit through the tunnel. It caused just a slight claustrophobia within him. _

_ Still, he somehow managed to squeeze himself through the long and tight hole, and was just glad, when he finally saw a dim light at the end of the way. Bucky was the first to leave the hole. Then he bowed down and helped Steve to get out. The blond Agent looked a little bit pale-faced. _

_ “Are you alright?” Bucky asked worried, putting a comforting hand on Steve's trembling shoulders. _

_ Steve inhaled and exhaled, until he felt calm enough to answer. _

_ “I’m sorry. But I had the feeling to suffocate in there. The tunnel was so small and tight and my shoulders are way too ridiculous for such small spaces.” He breathed. _

_ Bucky nodded in understanding. _

_ “It’s okay, Steve. Just take your time. We move on, when you're ready.” He soothed him, while keeping the boy’s sanctum within his range of vision. _

_ Finally, Steve felt that they could continue their way. He liked that Bucky was concerned about, when he had to worry about the boy and the success of their actual task. _

_ “I guess we can continue. Sorry for my panic attack.” He said to Bucky. The brunette flashed him a small smile and squeezed his hand. _

_ “That can happen to everyone, Steve. You don’t have to be ashamed about such a thing.” _

_ Steve nodded, ignoring that little butterfly in his gut, which didn’t seem to leave him alone. On the contrary, with every small thing, which Bucky did, the swarm inside him seemed to grow. He hated and loved it. _

_ “Are you ready to go on?” Bucky asked the blond Agent. _

_ “Yeah, let’s go.” _

_ Both men went about the descend, walking the few metres up to the shabby-looking ladder, which didn’t look inviting. Looking at the shabby state it was in, Steve really doubted that this thing could carry them both. _

_ “I think we shouldn’t use both the ladder at once.” He suggested. _

_ “I think you’re right. How about you go first? Then you can always catch me, should it break.” Bucky agreed. _

_ Steve nodded his head in agreement. He took a deep breath and made the first steps downwards. Only when he heard no creaking, he became more confident. Gripping one side, he carefully turned around, gripping both sides of the ladder with his hands, while he faced the abyss, above which the ladder was hanging freely. _

_ Step by step, Steve now climbed down, relieved when his feet finally hit solid ground. From there, he watched as Bucky followed his example. Plus, he got to watch that nice backside again. _

_ As soon as Bucky had made the last step down and stepped back, the ladder suddenly turned black and dissolved into ashes. Bucky sighed. _

_ “Guess, we have to find another way out then.” He stated contritely, before he turned around. Steve did the same. Right before them, was a sheer never-ending hallway. To the right and the left, they were looking at a series of interlocked tenement rooms. Some walls had been   torn away to expose rooms within - rooms with no windows or doors.  Following a path of fragile steps, they made their way to the only lighted room and entered – only to stop abruptly. _

_ The sight before them was just too bizarre. _

_ An albino German Shepherd puppy laid in the middle of the room with its head bent down, apparently sleeping, allowing the boy to caress his head this way. This sweet animal was an odd vision in this hellish world. Bucky gestured for Steve to wait at the door, before he approached the animal slowly, showing his respect. _

_ “Hello?” Bucky addressed the boy, giving him his nicest smile. _

_ The frightened child gasped in shocked and quickly retreated into a corner of the suffocating room, but the puppy still woke up and eyed the new arrival with curiosity, especially the metal arm.    _ __

_ Surprisingly, not only to the boy, but also to Steve, the small animal got up and took an affectionate step toward Bucky, inviting him to take over. It sniffed at the metal fingers, before he vigorously stroked the soft fur of its head and shoulder, much to the puppy’s delight. _

_ “Yeah, you like that, don't you?” he cooed, enjoying the treatment he gave the small dog. If the dead victims did the same, then he understood why it had been easy for Rumlow to capture them. _

_ He could see the boy hiding in the corner, stealing glances at him from the shadows. _

_ “Is your name Brock?” Bucky then asked, without looking at him directly. _

_ The lad – which was indeed the young Brock Rumlow, since Steve recognized him from Peggy’s photo – was startled  _ **_and_ ** _ intrigued by the question. Although he said nothing, Bucky could hear the unspoken “How did she know that?!”. He chuckled. _

_ “Another little boy I know, he has a pet too.” He replied. And it was true. While Brock had his dog, Tony had his pet robot. But in the end, it was the same. _

_ From his position at the door, Steve's heart melted. From what he had seen so far, he now understood, why Bucky was so good with children. He’d make a very good father, if he ever had children of his own. _

_ Suddenly, young Brock inhaled sharply. His wild eyes darted up to the ceiling, where an unusual sound was coming from. Steve frowned, his body now on high alert. Bucky on the other side, didn’t seem to notice that something was about to happen. _

_ “His name's Tony. I mean the boy, not the pet...” he blabbered, oblivious to his surroundings. _

_Meanwhile, Steve stared at the ceiling. Brock took a few steps toward Bucky, out of the shadows, but he seems more concerned about something in the ceiling than_ _"connecting" with Bucky. Very anxiously, he looked at the wall behind Bucky and watches the sand in an old hourglass trickle through._

_ Just now, Bucky realized that something was going on. He turned his head to the frightened boy. _

_ “What's the matter, Brock?” he wanted to know. _

_ Just then, a sharp sound came from the ceiling again. It sounded like someone was saying something in a thick, swiss accent. _

_ “What's wro---?” Bucky frowned. _

_ Before Steve could spur into action, Little Brock ran at him and shoved him hard!  Bucky was so taken aback by the boy’s action that he fell back on his ass just as eight blood-red tentacles emerged from the ceiling.  _

_ They grabbed the happily yapping puppy and ripped it brutally into eight clean sections, showering Bucky with blood.  Only then, they separated and compacted every single part, until eight glass-contained sections of dissected puppy stood within the room, still panting happily. _

_ Bucky looks in shock at the eight sections, but the puppy seemed barely to acknowledge what had just happened. Shaking in fear, the boy lets out a scream and then runs out of the room back into the maze. The visibly shaken Bucky needed a moment to collect himself. Steve helped him up, an identical look of horror on his face. _

_ “Are you alright?” the blond asked worried. Bucky just nodded. _

_ “We need to find him.” The brunette pleaded. Although Steve wanted to make sure that Bucky was really okay, he gave in. _

_ “Alright. But only, if you're really okay.”  He insisted. _

_ Bucky suddenly smiled and put his flesh hand on Steve's shoulder. _

_ “Yes, I’m really fine. It was just a scare. You don’t have to worry about me…Although that’s really sweet of you.” He said, hitting a furiously blushing Steve on the back. _

_ Just then, they left the room and then gave chase after Brock, who long had disappeared into the real-life artwork. Climbing up and down ladders, crawling through tunnels and crawl-spaces, running along endless hallways. Although both men did their best to follow the boy, Brock seemed to know his way around the labyrinth better than them. Which was no wonder, since it was his mind who had created this realm. _

 

_ After what seemed like hours, Bucky had to admit that he had obviously lost the boy for now. They were in the same hallway, where they had discovered Brock. _

_ Exhausted, they slid down the wall, reconsidering their next steps. _

_ “Do you have any idea, how much time has passed? I feel like we’ve been in here forever.” Steve wanted to know. _

_ Bucky shrugged his shoulders. _

_ “It's different in each case. You can spend hours in here, but in the real world, just mere minutes might have passed. Or you're only a few minutes in here, which are hours in the real world. _

_ With Tony, I've spent hours in his sanctuary. And when I came back, the same amount of time had passed.” He explained, a fond tone swinging in his voice. _

_ Steve raised his eyebrows. _

_ “Tony?” He asked. _

_ Bucky looked at him with a fond expression.  _

_ “The little boy I've been telling “little Brock” about. Tony Stark. He’s been my patient, ever since his parents brought him to the Centre.”  _

_ Steve was surprised. Although he only knew him from what little Peggy had told him, he had had no idea that Bucky was working so closely with him. _

_ “Stark Industries are funding our project, together with the American branch of Wakanda Inc. and Odinson Enterprises. Although it’s hard, especially when it comes to negotiations about whether to continue or not continue the funding. Wakanda Inc. and Odinson Corp. are very accommodating, but I just had to deal with Howard Stark and it was awful. That man is a dick the size of Jupiter.” Bucky complained. _

_ Steve sniggered, when he heard Bucky calling Howard Jr. that. Even Peggy had complained that her old wartime friend’s son was an “egotistical dickhead” (her words). _

_ “I mean, I’m doing everything for his son, because I love Tony like a little brother. And this asshole wants to cut the funding and shunt off his son in some luxury nurse home for the rest of his life. So, I really got mad and yelled at him, before Bruce sent me out. Only then, I realize that yelling at the one, who sponsors you, is suboptimal. _

_ But luckily for me, Maria, Mrs. Carbonell-Stark, likes me. So, she threatens Howard to cut off his balls, if he doesn’t continue the funding. And now, we have secured the backing for two more years.” Bucky told him. _

_ Steve laughed. A nice, deep laugh, which Bucky surprised, but that he liked very much. _

_ For a long while, both men stayed quiet. Then Bucky needed to ask something, which had him bothering since their first meeting in the conference room. _

_ “Can I ask you something, Steve?” _

_ Steve looked at Bucky and nodded. _

_ “In the conference room, when we were watching the video, I sensed more than just outrage about her fate from you. There was grief, sadness…love. What was she to you? Your girlfriend? I completely understand, if you don’t want to answer it.” The brunette asked, holding up his hands. _

_ Steve closed his eyes and took a sharp breath. Of course, this question had to come. But right now, he trusted Bucky enough to tell him the truth. _

_ “She’s not my girlfriend. Sharon is, was, my foster-cousin. We grew up together. Her Aunt Peggy took me in, after the six-year-old me defended Sharon from some bullies. By that time, I was living in an orphanage, since my mother had long been passed away. Ever since, Peggy had become my second mother and Sharon a sister, only not in blood. _

_ She was the one to convince me to join SHIELD after my two tours in Bosnia and Croatia. So, I’m with SHIELD for five years and pretty happy now…well, most of the time.” He told him, trying to swallow down that big lump in his throat. Bucky nodded and put his hand on Steve's. _

_ “I’m sorry for your loss, Steve. I know what it's like to lose a family member, although not in such a cruel way.” He whispered in a soothing voice, which had a surprisingly calming effect on the blond agent. _

_ “What do you mean?” Steve wanted to know. _

_ “Our, my and my sister’s, parents…They died in a car crash, when I was nine. Becca was twelve. We grew up with a distant aunt, but it wasn’t the same. When Becca left for college, we had barely contact anymore. Only saw each other at holidays. _

_ Now, she has her own family and I mine, even if it's just my circle of friends.” Bucky told him. Steve could tell that this estrangement made him sad, although Bucky didn’t want to admit it. At least he seemed to have some very good friends. _

_ “What about the arm? Did you lose it in the crash?” _

_ Bucky blinked at him, before he shook his head. _

_ “Oh no, we weren’t in the car during the crash. I lost it in a climbing accident.” He said. _

_ “You climb?” _

_ “Climbed. Past Tense. Yeah, I’ve been doing that. I loved it. Just the fact that you had to focus so that you don’t fall back to the ground. That you were climbing on something that once had been the bottom of a primordial ocean. That you feel like the world belongs to you, when you stand on the top.” He gushed about it. _

_ “So, what happened?” _

_ “About ten years ago, when I started working here after college, I spent my vacation in Germany, because it has beautiful climbing places. I didn’t do the Alps, because everyone does them, but found this beautiful little place in Saxony. They call it Saxon Switzerland. _

_ It's a hilly climbing area and national park around the Elbe valley south-east of Dresden and has this remarkable Sandstone Mountains with over 1000 climbing peaks. I visited a fortress built on a Table Mountain, before I started looking for the best places to climb. Needless to say that I spent nearly two weeks with my favourite hobby. _

_ Two days before I was supposed to fly home, I wanted to climb the Mönch, that’s a rock pinnacle and one of the most popular climbing peaks, after the Saxonian climbing rules. That means climbing without artificial aids like hitherto ladders or artificially hewn steps. _

_ Anyway, although the weather was fine that day, it must have rained the night before. I didn’t realize the rock was wet, until my hand slipped away halfway and I fell down on the ground, right on my left arm. You can’t imagine the pain I was in, when I literally felt my bones break into tiny little pieces. Unfortunately, I was the only one in that area that day, and spent almost twenty-four hours on the hard forest ground, not being able to move without feeling that slicing pain. _

_ Only by chance, some hikers found me the next day and I was rescued. But my arm was already infected and they had to amputate it. A few months later, me and Bruce developed this prosthesis and patented it. That way, we also had the idea with our machine, although it took ages, until we had enough funding to build it.” _

_ Bucky ended his story. Steve had grown quiet during the climbing accident part. He didn’t like the thought of Bucky being in pain. And that no one had found for such a long time. It was awful. On the other side, Bucky now had this awesome arm and developed this unique apparatus. So everything bad still had its good sides. _

_ Suddenly, Bucky pricked up his ears. He had heard something that shouldn't be within this maze. _

_ “What's going on?” Steve asked him, noticing that Bucky must have heard something. The brunette held up a hand.  _

_ “Do you hear that?” He whispered. _

_ Steve frowned, but listened carefully. And indeed, he could hear a faint whistle, which seemed to come closer by the minute - and which he had only heard from old steam locomotives before. _

_ Both men got up and walked back to an open spot, where they could survey most of the labyrinth, only to stop short, when they saw the source of the whistling. _

_ “How is that even possible?” Steve wondered, suddenly questioning his sanity.  _

_ “Don't forget that we’re not in the real world. Everything's possible.”  _

_ About three levels below them, an old-fashioned train made his way with five train cars in tow. _

_ “And what now?” Steve asked. _

_ Bucky scratched his chin. He had an idea, but he didn't know if it would work. _

_ “I'd like to try something. I always wanted to reverse the feed. But Bruce found it too dangerous. That doesn't mean that I can't try with something small.” he mused. _

_ “And you think this is going to work?” Steve asked skeptically. _

_ Bucky shrugged his shoulders. _

_ “Honestly, I don't know. But it's worth a shot.” Suddenly, Bucky pricked up his ears. He had heard something that shouldn't be within this maze. _

_ “What's going on?” Steve asked him, noticing that Bucky must have heard something. The brunette held up a hand. _

_ “Do you hear that?” He whispered. _

_ Steve frowned, but listened carefully. And indeed, he could hear a faint whistle, which seemed to come closer by the minute - and which he had only heard from old steam locomotives before. _

_ Both men got up and walked back to an open spot, where they could survey most of the labyrinth, only to stop short, when they saw the source of the whistling. _

_ “How is that even possible?” Steve wondered, suddenly questioning his sanity. _

_ “Don't forget that we’re not in the real world. Everything's possible.” _

_ About three levels below them, an old-fashioned train made his way with five train cars in tow. _

_ “And what now?” Steve asked. _

_ Bucky scratched his chin. He had an idea, but he didn't know if it would work. _

_ “I'd like to try something. I always wanted to reverse the feed. But Bruce found it too dangerous. That doesn't mean that I can't try with something small.” he mused. _

_ “And you think this is going to work?” Steve asked, regarding the distance to the oncoming train somewhat sceptically. _

_ Bucky shrugged his shoulders. _

_ “Honestly, I don't know. But it's worth a shot.” He replied, before taking a step back. The brunette closed his eyes. For a moment, nothing happened. But suddenly, Steve felt the atmosphere around them change. Had it been dark before, there was now a certain lightness in the air and both, Steve and Bucky, could breathe a little bit easier. _

_ “Did it work?” Steve asked his companion. _

_ Bucky opened his eyes and smirked at the blond. _

_ “Just look and be amazed.” He all but chuckled. Then he turned around and walked up to a niche that had just appeared in the wall. Steve wondered, what was in there. Bucky opened the small door, grabbed whatever was behind it, and turned back to Steve, holding up triumphantly two ropes, two zip line pulleys with grip bars and a crossbow with grappling hook arrows. Steve had no idea, what Bucky was up to, and raised an eyebrow. _

_ “Really, Buck? Why would we need that?” he deadpanned, instinctively using a nickname version of his friend’s name. _

_ Bucky grinned and started to tie one rope to one of the arrows. Then he walked back to where they had been standing before, and took aim at a point on the other side of the landscape, after cocking the stirrup by hand. _

_ Steve doubted that Bucky could make a shoot that far. The only one from which he knew that he’d be able to make such a shot, was Clint. But Clint wasn’t here, so he had to trust Bucky, hoping that the brunette knew what he was doing. _

_ Bucky knelt down on one knee and held the crossbow close to his chest and chin. His right eye looked for a suitable point, where the grappling hook had the best chance to find hold. Finally, when his eyes had spotted the perfect spot, Bucky clicked the fire mechanism and the arrow shot fast over the landscape, finally interlocking with the railing of a vertical stairwell that ended just one metre above the railroad line. _

_ Steve’s eyebrows shot upwards. He was impressed. Bucky had a damn good aim. _

_ “Nice.” He commented. _

_ Bucky chuckled. _

_ “What can I say? I always had good aim.” _

_ Steve made a mental note to never introduce Bucky to Clint. The both of them would get along like a house on fire. And Steve was already punished enough for putting up with Natasha. _

_ Bucky tied the other end to a similar railing above them and checked its stability, before he gave one of the zipline pulleys to Steve. _

_ “And now?” Steve asked, but he dreaded the answer. _

_ “Now, dear Stevie, we put the pulleys on the rope and sail down on the roof of the train. I’m sure there must be a terminus somewhere.” He explained. _

_ Steve sighed. He should have known. That beautiful man’s stupidity was rivalling his own. Sharon and Natasha would have loved it. He loved it. _

_ “Got any problems with it, punk?” Bucky asked, cocking his head. _

_ Steve shook his head. _

_ “No, you jerk.” He answered, grabbing his pulley. _

_ The train was now almost in range. Bucky put his zipline pulley on the rope and braced himself for a bumpy ride. _

_ “See you at the end of the line, punk!” he all but yelled and pushed himself off the edge. With a loud “Woo-hoo” he allowed gravity to propel him down the line. _

_ “Will do, Jerk.” Steve yelled after him, before he followed Bucky's example. _

_ Both travelled down the zip line with the help of the number one force in the universe. Bucky was the first to land elegantly on top of the travelling train. A few moments later, Steve tumbled not so elegantly on the roof. Bucky gestured at the open door of the freight car in front of them. Steve nodded. He scurried after his now friend, climbing down the ladder between two waggons, before Bucky helped him inside. _

_ Within the freight car, it wasn’t necessarily better than in the mace. It was dark and smelled of mould. Steve didn’t like it at all. All of his military and SHIELD senses were tingling suddenly. _

_ “Maybe we should go forwards to the engine. I don’t like it in here. At all.” He suggested. _

_ Bucky nodded. He had the same feeling about the waggon. As if someone was only waiting for them to let down their guard. _

_ Both men slowly walked forwards, the wheels squealing as they hit another curve. At the same time, everything inside the waggon erupted in chaos. _

_ Just as they approached the end of the train car, the loud voice with the Swiss accent sounded from the ceiling again. This time, they could understand, what she was saying. _

_ “In ze name of HYDRA, bring him to me!” it ordered. _

_ Bucky and Steve looked at each other, before one of the red tentacles appeared from the ceiling and hit Bucky right in the gut. With a loud “Ooomph”, Bucky was flung backwards and hit the wall with his head, where he stayed lying a little bit dazed. _

_ “Bucky!!!” Steve screamed and rushed to his fallen companion, only to fall down on the floor himself. Another pair of red appendages had curled themselves around his feet and Steve tried in vain to get rid of them. _

_ Bucky, whose head was getting clearer by the second, saw that Steve was in trouble _

_ “Steve, give me your hand!” he yelled and held out a hand for the blond Agent. Steve did the same. Just then, two tentacles wrapped themselves around Bucky’s waist, lifting him up into the air. A third one smashed the closed waggon door into pieces. Before Bucky could react and Steve could free himself, the limbs holding the brunette flung him out of the compartment and Bucky fell, screaming loudly. _

_ “Bucky, no!” Steve screamed. A rush of adrenaline overcame him and somehow, he suddenly had the strength to rip the red monstrosity, his living chains, off his feet, tearing them apart. _

_ Then he rushed to the open door. But the only thing, he saw, was the tiny dot that had been Bucky. Before another wave of grief and anger could paralyse him again, he took a deep breath and jumped out of the waggon, diving after Bucky. He fell and fell, had almost reached the man he had a crush on… _

_ Only to stop mid-fall. Before Steve could wonder what was going on, he felt a strong tug from above. A second later, he pulled upwards with the same speed from falling and Steve let out a last desperate “BUCKY!!!”, before the world exploded in green. _

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

**Chapter 2**

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

Yggdrasil Centre for Neurosciences, 8:00 pm

Natasha was sitting cross-legged with her shoes off on the floor in the conference room/temporary base, momentarily only capable of staying awake by being properly caffeinated, studying recent photos and documents sent to her via courier.

She  looked at blow-ups from the videos, blueprints of Rumlow’s house, detailed shots of the basement, and a draftsman's conceptual drawing of the cell itself. She couldn’t believe that someone could ever think up such a form of torture.    

Just then, Bruce’s voice spoke over the intercom.

“Natasha, could you please come up to the lab? Your partner is back.”

Natasha didn’t hesitate one second and slipped back into her black boots, before heaving herself up and all but running up to the laboratory. To her surprise, she was greeted by a loud beeping and three alarmed staff members.

While she walked into the Control Room, she saw Bruce as he disconnected Steve from the fastenings, which had held him mid-air. James on the other side was still hanging mid-air, face covered by the cloth. A situation which she found strange. James didn’t seem like the type of man to send Steve back alone. Something must have happened in there.

Her best friend was still dazed from the drug concoction, as Bruce checked his vitals.

From her place at the wall, she could see a concerned Jane checking a print-out of the procedure.

“What happened?” Natasha asked.

Jane shrugged her shoulders.

“We don’t know. One minute, everything was alright. The next minute, we get red alerts and your partner is coming back to the real world. Whatever it was, it must've been rather unusual. Or maybe there’s something wrong with the data.”

Natasha sighed.

“I don’t think so. Why is Steve back and James isn’t? Or is he the kind of man to do something on his own?”

Jane blinked at the Agent, as if she had just an epiphany.

“No, he isn’t. I told you something’s wrong.” Sam said to her.

“Please, Sam. It's probably just the failsafe malfunctioning.”

Natasha raised an elegant eyebrow. Noticing Natasha's confusion, Jane pointed to a central screen, which was divided in four sections of white, yellow, orange, and red.

“If James’s neural activity stays within this range, I know he’s self-cognitive…It's as if he was having a dream, but knows that he’s dreaming, so he can "wake up" any time she wants to...” Jane explained.

Nat nodded in understanding, but her eyes were on Steve, who was just coming back to consciousness. Jane pointed at the orange section.

“However, if his level of involvement is rather intense, as it was just now, he can perceive things as true.  It's difficult to keep perspective.”

While Natasha lingered on that question, her gaze fell on the red section.  She gestured at it.

“What happens here?” she asked.

Jane and Sam looked uncomfortably at each other, before Jane cleared her throat.

“Well…we don't talk about that.” She admitted.

Natasha gripped the bridge of her nose and resisted the urge to scream. She asked a simple question and just wanted a simple answer. Was that too much to ask for? Or did she speak in Chinese?

“What happens here?” she probed.

Jane sighed.

“Well, this is just theoretically, while he's inside. If James came to believe that Rumlow's world is his world, his mind would have the power to convince the body that anything done to it is, um, actually done.”

Natasha pressed her lips together. She didn’t like the sound of that. Absolutely not.

“That's why we monitor the use of the drugs so closely.  We don't want him getting to that degree of perceptual disorientation.”

Natasha sighed.

“Although it’s very good to hear that there are so many safety mechanisms, it doesn’t answer my question. Steve came back or was forced to. So, why didn’t James? I’m not a scientist, Doctor Foster, but when two men go in and only one comes back, then I, as an Agent, conclude that someone didn’t want Steve in there. But at the same time, this someone also has a big interest in keeping James there, because of his special ability.” She stated as a matter of fact.

Jane and Sam looked at each other.

“That sounds…reasonable.” Sam admitted. Jane nodded.

“So, what do we now, Jane?” the technician stressed out. His Darcy was in peril somewhere out there and now it seemed that Bucky was trapped in that killer’s mind.

“When you're done bickering, you can pump in two litres of pure oxygen for now. Please, Jane.” Bruce's voice sounded through the microphone.

Jane turned back to her computer and typed a command, while Natasha spoke into the intercom.

“Bruce? How is he?” she asked. But Bruce held up a hand, telling her to wait that way

So, she did wait.

In the Procedure Room, Bruce slowly, but steadily eased Steve back to consciousness. The Agent’s eyes looked dazed and he was close to hyperventilating, but that was to be expected. Everyone had looked like that after coming back from the first journey.

“Deep breaths, Steve. You need to take deep breaths or you will make yourself sick. Can you understand me?” Bruce asked gently.

Steve nodded, although he didn’t understand why Bruce was suddenly there. Bucky. He had to get to Bucky. But no, Bucky had fallen from the train and he couldn’t save him. It was all Rumlow's fault.

He had to save Bucky.

It took several minutes, before his head was clear enough, so that he could think straight again. But when his eyes fell on Bucky's and Rumlow's bodies, his flesh crawled. His mind flashed back to Bucky's terrified face, as he was flung out of the train car. He began to shake.

“I…I…Is it cold in here?” he stuttered, his teeth chattering loudly.

Bruce frowned at him.

“No. But can you tell me what happened?”

There was no response from Steve. He just stared at Bucky. In the other room, Natasha looked worried.

“What's wrong, Steve? Why are you suddenly back with us? Did something happen to Bucky?” Bruce asked anew.

Suddenly, Steve covered his eyes with his arm and began to cry loudly.

“He fell from the train! I couldn’t help him.” He managed to get out between sobs.

Bruce stared confused at the Agent. Suddenly incapable of being in the same room as Buck and Rumlow, Steve tore himself out of the apparatus and all but run out of the room.

“Steve!” Natasha's voice shouted through the speakers.

_ Bucky was falling downwards. _

_ He still could see the train moving away, could hear Steve's scream, before he hit something hard and lost consciousness. _

_ Bucky didn’t know how long he was out. But when he finally opened his eyes again, his head was hurting and he could something wet on his forehead, probably a laceration from the fall. As he tried to stand up, pain shot through his nerve endings in the brain and he felt so sick that he couldn’t help but throw up on the floor. _

_ Okay, probably more than just a laceration. Most likely a mild concussion. _

_ Suddenly he heard a noise nearby and struggled to get on his feet. Looking around, he found himself in an even darker environment than he had been before. It took some time to get used to the gloominess. Just then, his eyes recognised a geared mechanism, which seemed to be connected to a heavily secured, steel-reinforced door. _

_ Although he was curious, Bucky stayed cautious. Who knew what was behind it, when such a heavy door was needed. He examined the nearby walls, the floor and the ceiling for any signs of similar “traps” to the one with the glass blades. Fortunately, there was none. Buck took a deep breath and pulled the mechanism, quickly stepping back. _

_ The door slowly opened with a loud groan and Bucky held his breath, now knowing that there must be something alive in there. Slowly, he stepped forwards. The room behind the steel was flooded with bilious green light, making him feel nauseous. Then, he stopped short, his eyes widening. _

_ Right in front of him were four identical, tube-like chambers, going from the ground up to the ceiling. Within the chambers were four nude women, their eyes closed as if they were sleeping. Tiny ice crystals glittered on their bright white skin, making them look like lost snow maidens. _

_ Shocked, Bucky stumbled back and unconsciously hit a hidden button within the door. With a loud hiss, each cryogenic stasis unit, because that’s what they were, opened. One by one, the women slowly opened their eyes, revealing ghostly white pupils. _

_ Bucky know those women. He had seen them on the photos, which SHIELD had provided for them. Maria Hill, Christine Everhart, Betty Ross and Steve's foster-cousin Sharon Carter. A shiver run down his spine and the voice inside his mind, which sounded suspiciously like Steve, just told him to run. But it was too late. _

_ Ghostly pale, blonde hair framing her white face, Sharon appeared next him, "sensing" the presence of a stranger. It was enough to target Bucky, where he was standing, and attack him. _

_ Bucky had enough and moved to press the implant in his metal hand, but _

_ Sharon was already there. She brutally grabbed Bucky by his hair, threw him against the wall and smacked his head against it. Already weakened by the concussion, Bucky dropped to the floor like a rag doll. _

_ Sharon hefted Bucky onto her shoulder, before she joined her sisters in death, and carried him deep into the labyrinth, toward the core, the dark heart of this nightmare realm. Passing in and out of consciousness, between darkness and light, a dazed Bucky was taken on a "tour" through Rumlow's world.  _

_ They passed mausoleum-like chambers, filled with images of unspeakable horror and disturbing intensity. It was like a nightmarish art gallery with exhibits of Brock's life. _

_ At one of the rooms, he could see Little Brock with a pudgy, short man with round glasses. Brock was in some kind of dentist chair and the man put some kind of crown on his head, which was connected to a…machine? What the fuck? _

_ The next one showed the man with a large group of frightened children, who were guarded by armed men in black full body armours, wearing the insignia of a red skull-headed octopus with six tentacles. It reminded him of the tentacles, which had flung him out of the freight car. _

_ Another chamber showed the man wearing a lab coat, overseeing as lab technicians tried out several horror torture devices and techniques on said children – Electroshocks, waterboarding, frontal lobotomy, ice baths, sleep deprivation and so on. Bucky just became sick from watching it. Who in their right mind would do that to innocent kids? _

_ The last one showed an impassive Brock as a young adult next to the man, stun batons in both hands, his 48 siblings surrounding them in similar poses and facial expressions, each of them wearing their own special weapon. _

_ So, all in all, Brock seemed to be the receiving victim of more than just violence in his childhood. It actually made some sense. And it would explain Brock’s behaviour or the existence of this hell. _

_ Bucky had no idea, how long their trip lasted. But when they finally reached a huge, almost dome-like space and Sharon slowed down, he knew that they must had reached the sanctum. A huge pond installation occupied almost eighty-five percent of the hall, with a large statue of the same skull-headed, six-limbed octopus on a small island right in the middle. _

_ To his surprise, Sharon walked on, stepped on the water, as if she was a fallen Jesus. Only when they reached the islet, he was dropped to the earth like a heavy sack of potatoes at the base of the statue, before the blonde woman continued her journey to the other side of the pond. _

_ “Tsk, tsk. Vhy don’t you greet our guest, Brock? It vould be rude not to.” It spoke. _

_ Bucky inhaled sharply. This voice…Although it sounded politely, he felt the sadism and coldness in it. Whoever this voice belonged, wasn’t a nice man, but someone casted in the same mould. _

_ He was so in trouble. _

 

Yggdrasil Centre for Neurosciences, 8:10 pm

Steve couldn’t breathe. He hadn’t expected that his little trip had affected him so much, although Natasha had warned him. But he had wanted to help. And now he couldn’t get Bucky's terrified face out of his mind. He knew he was being ridiculous. But he needed just some fresh air before he could go back in there. Because he just knew he would go back in there. He wouldn’t leave Bucky to an uncertain fate.

Somehow, Steve ended up in a for him unknown part of the Centre. He had no idea, where he was, until his eyes fell on a nameplate at a white door, which read Jones, Jessica. He looked through the small window in the door and saw a little dark-haired girl lying there, no older than twelve.

“That’s Jessica, one of our very first patients here at the Centre.” T'Challa's voice suddenly spoke on his right. Steve all but jumped at the sudden appearance of the administrator at his side. Steve knew why he was here. Nat had probably called him because of his sudden urge to run away from all.

“What happened to her?” Steve wanted to know.

“Physical and mental abuse through a friend of her family. She’s been like this for six years now.” He explained. Steve gritted his teeth. He understood what T'Challa meant with physical abuse. It was one thing, which he hated even more than Crossbones. People, who sexually assaulted little children.

“Was he caught?” Steve wanted to know.

T'Challa nodded.

“Spends the rest of his miserable life in the worst Texan State Prison.”

Steve was glad to hear that.

“But I guess you’re not here to talk to me about Jessica.” He guessed.

T'Challa snorted.

“Of course not. I want you to meet someone, Steve. If you’d follow me…” he spoke and walked on. Steve frowned, but followed the Admin. They only walked two rooms further in the ward, right to the biggest hospital room. Despite the late time, they were still visitors inside.

The inhabitant of this room was a lanky teen, about fifteen years old. He laid in a huge comfortable bed, his eyes staring at the ceiling. At the walls were several scientific posters, drawings and photos featuring an older man with beard, a kind looking couple in his fifties and the teen with two women.

The same women, who were sitting at each side of the Adolescent, holding his hands and talking softly to him. Steve glanced at the nameplate.

Stark, Anthony Edward.

He inhaled sharply. So, this was Howard's son, but somehow didn’t look like his father.

The woman on Tony's right side was dark-haired and wore a simple black, but elegant costume with silver costume jewellery. Most likely, Tony's mother, because she looked exactly like him. The woman on Tony's left side, was younger, a strawberry redhead and wearing a shimmering grey pantsuit with almost no jewellery except for an expensive silver watch and a pair of small creoles.

Steve stayed behind T'Challa, when he knocked at the open. Both women’s faces lit up at the sight of the Wakandan.

“Hello, T'Challa. Still here that late?” the older woman chuckled.

“I’m afraid so, Maria. I already told you at the phone that we have a situation on our hands. And as an Admin, I want to make sure everything’s going to be alright, until the situation is solved.”

Maria nodded in understanding.

“I know that from my husband. Only that he solves his situations in bars and clubs instead in his tower.” She huffed. Then her gaze fell on Steve in his suit.

“Who’s your friend, T'Challa? A new staff member?” she asked curiously. She got up and walked up to Steve, her heels clicking on the hard floor, and held her hand out.

“Hello, I’m Maria.” She introduced herself, before she gestured to the redheaded woman. “And this is Pepper. I assume that you’re working with Bucky.”

Steve blushed and nodded, taking her hand. He winced when they shook hands, because for a woman of her age, she had a very strong hand grip.

“Yes, Ma’am. My name is Steve Rogers. I’m with SHIELD and currently working with Bucky to solve said situation.”

From her position at Tony's side, Pepper sniggered.

“He’s really as polite as Peggy has told us, Maria.”

Steve frowned. Where did the CEO of Stark Industries knew his foster-mother?

But Maria ignored Pepper's comment for a moment and scrutinized Steve.

“So, do you like working with Bucky?” she asked. Steve wondered why she would like to know this from him, but answered her question honestly.

“I like working with him, although I must say that I only met him today.” He admitted truthfully.

Maria eyed him up again, before she grabbed his hand and pulled him to Tony's bedside, forcing him to sit down on a chair next to hers.

“Pepper, this is Peggy’s Steve. She didn’t exaggerate.” She introduced the two.

“Why do you know my foster-mother?” Steve wanted to know.

“Oh, we know her from her work with my late father-in-law. SHIELD and Stark Industries have always worked very close together. And it was her that recommended the Centre, when no one was or didn’t feel to be able to help Tony. Bucky was the first one to bring back small snippets from what’s going on in Tony's mind.

You have no idea, how frustrating it can be for a mother, when everyone is telling her that her only son is only a vegetable and she shouldn’t waste that much money on unconventional methods of treatment.”

“I can imagine. I suppose your “husband” belongs to “everyone”.” Steve guessed, already knowing the answer.

Maria snorted and pushed a stray lock away from Tony's forehead.

“Why do you think I’m here that late? Because Howard had been lamenting to me all day that he now had to pay for two more years of useless therapy for his useless son. You must know that Howard wanted to cut the funding.” Maria explained.

Steve nodded.

“I know. Bucky told me.”

Maria smiled at that.

“He’s a real sweetheart, isn’t he? Anyway, this time I had enough and threatened my darling husband. Luckily, he gave in, but only to preserve his reputation as a “family man”. But to be honest, I’d rather be poor with my son being his usually healthy and petulant self than rich and Tony being like this.” She gestured at Tony's catatonic body in the comfortable hospital bed.

Steve couldn’t help but chuckle.

“That’s what Peggy would say, too. So, I’m wondering if you could tell me, what exactly happened to your son, Ma’am…”

“Maria, please.” She corrected him.

“…Maria. Of course, only if you want to…” Steve stammered.

Both women shared a meaningful glance, before Pepper sent her a it’s-your-choice-look.

“In hindsight, it's Howard's fault…as always. Five years ago, I just wanted to take a relaxing vacation in Turkey with my son, his best friend, my best friend and Howard. Getting to know the country and its culture, you know.

But of course, my darling husband had to turn this into a working holiday. At that time, Stark Industries had developed an experimental missile – the Jericho Missile.”

Steve listened to her with interest. Of course, he had heard of the almost legendary Jericho missile – a weapon, which separated into 16 smaller missiles upon being launched. Each of these projectiles could spread across the area causing a chain of explosions and an enormous shockwave.

It was supposed to be the newest weapon for the United States Army. But there was also a version for the United Stated Air Force. Now that he thought back, he realized that it never been used after the premiere demonstration in Izmir Air Station. Something must have happened during that demonstration.

“So, he has his spectacular demonstration, while we get a tour around the base. You should have seen Tony's face then. His eyes were so full of life and inquisitiveness. He really made a show of pointing out three different ways of how he could improve each weapon. Our poor tour guide was so glad, when this tour was finally over.

The worst thing happened on the way back to our villa. Our small convoy – our car and the two escort cars – was suddenly attacked by an unknown group. It’s been a miracle that no one was killed, only hurt. But when everyone came to, Tony was gone. Kidnapped.

It took us three months to find about his whereabouts. Do you know where he was found, Steve?” Maria asked the Agent, tears shimmering in the corner of her eyes.

Steve shook his head.

“Iraqi Kurdistan. In goddamn Iraqi Kurdistan. A local doctor called Yinsen had tipped one of Nick’s undercover Agents off that there was a catatonic American Boy in one of the caves in the Sinjar Mountains, which turned out to be the lair of some non-Kurdish terrorist cell that didn’t belong to any of the local ethnic groups.

Getting Tony out there was astonishingly enough easy. It was the state he was in, which complicated things. To this day, I have no idea what exactly had happened during these three months.” She ended her story.

“And you want Bucky to find out what has happened in the cave.” Steve concluded.

Maria nodded.

“Like I said before, Peggy helped us finding Bucky, his friends and their device. I'm so thankful for every bit of Tony he’s bringing back. But all we knew then was that he was already in this state, when he was found. Only later, we found out that his own godfather had been behind the attack and the kidnapping.”

“Godfather?”

“Obadiah Stane, Howard's affiliate. He had been selling Stark Industries weapons under the table to the Baath regime and wanted to get his hand on the Jericho. But Howard refused him and therefore, Obie incited that attack. Against his own, ten-year-old godson. Not to mention that he marked him with a goddamn branding iron above the navel. I just hope that he burns in hell for what he did to my son.”

Steve inhaled sharply. Did Maria just say branding iron?

“Did you just say branding iron?” he all but hissed.

Maria and Pepper stared at him, before they nodded simultaneously.

“Yes. I can show you.” Maria withdrew the blanket a little bit, before she lifted her son’s shirt. And she was right. The skull-headed octopus was laughing at him with an intensity that made his blood boil.

“What’s wrong, Steve? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Pepper whispered.

Steve closed his eyes, before he got up and left the room in a hurry. His feet carried him to their temporary base, where he grabbed Peggy's file, and then ran back to Tony's room, apologizing to both women for his erratic behaviour.

“I’m sorry, but I had to get something from our base. I really need to ask you something. It's important that I get an honest answer.” Steve asked her.

Maria looked at Tony and then at Steve, before she nodded. The blond Agent pulled a copy of Peggy's photo out of the file and showed it to her. Maria took it with a frown.

“Do you know an Dr. Armin Zola?” he asked her.

Maria looked at the photo, before her face lit up with recognition.

“Yes, it's that pudgy man next to…Oh God, what was the boy’s name again? Oh yes…Brock. Brock Rumlow. Odd man, this Zola. Gave me the creeps, although I only met him and his adoptive son at Howard's and mine wedding. I think he used to work for Peggy. But why do you ask? Zola died over ten years ago.”  

Steve pointed at Brock.

“It’s more about Brock, his son.”

“Oh yes, he was a nice young man. Although a bit quiet and shy. Not that this is necessarily a bad thing.” Maria explained, still unsure what Steve was trying to get at.

“The situations we have on our hands…It's about Crossbones. We know for sure that Rumlow is Crossbones.”

Maria and Pepper gasped, covering their mouths.

“New York’s serial killer? He killed Christine and Betty. I knew them.” Maria exclaimed.

“He also killed Sharon, Peggy's niece.” Steve added.

“Oh no. Poor Peggy. Why didn’t she tell us?” both women whispered in horror.

“I don’t know. The problem is…Rumlow had already kidnapped another victim, when we finally got to him and he fell into the almost same catatonic state. We wanted to find out about her whereabouts. That’s why he’s upstairs in the Lab, embedded in the machine together with Bucky, and it seems that he keeps Bucky prisoner in his mind.”

“That’s awful. How can I help?”

“I need to know if Zola had any other property except for his Staten Island house. Our guys couldn’t find any records and we think that he’s keeping her elsewhere.” Steve explained.

Maria closed her eyes.

“If I can remember right, Zola bought some old real estate from Howard Sr. in the Seventies, although I don’t know if there are any records, even though it had been SI and SSR property.” She supposed.

“There could be some records in the Archives. Why don’t you call Jarvis and let him look for it? He could send it over, if he finds something.” Pepper suggested.

“That’s a good idea, Pep.” Maria exclaimed, before she turned to Steve. “I’ll call Jarvis, our former archivist. If anyone can find, what you're looking for, then it’s him. So why don’t you go and ensure that Bucky’s coming back in one piece, while I take care of this? Tony needs him.” She told him, while she moved over to the phone on Tony's nightstand.

“I will.” Steve promised. “Can you get it over to my Partner, Agent Romanoff? Redhead? Mean? Eats Men for Breakfast? She’s either in the temp base in one of the conference rooms or in the lab.”

Maria laughed.

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell him to be careful. Now go.” She said, making a shooing motion at him. Steve saluted her and turned to leave the room after one last glance at Tony.

Outside, he almost got a heart attack, when Natasha was standing there, one of her perfect eyebrows raised and her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“I don’t like men for breakfast, just so you know, Steve. I rather like to eat them for dessert.” She said. Steve looked sheepishly at his best friend.

“Sorry about that.” He apologized.

Natasha gave him a look, but decided to change the topic.

“So, how do you want to proceed now?” she asked.

“If we’re lucky, Maria's friend can send you over the records for some of Zola’s real estate purchases from SI. I want you to look over them and watch out for an old army base – from the Forties or earlier.” He told her, while they started walking back to the Lab.

“Army base?”

Steve shrugged his shoulders.

“Just a hunch.”

Natasha raised her eyebrows.

“And what about you?”

Steve huffed.

“I’m going back in. I need to save my future boyfriend, after all.” He explained.

Natasha suddenly grinned at him.

“Really? I’m surprised, Steve.”

“Don’t be. See you later and wish me luck.”  He blurted out, suddenly in a hurry to get back into Rumlow's mind. Then he was already gone.

Natasha looked after her best friend. It was strange. She and Sharon had tried for several years to set him up. And now it only took a missing woman for him to meet a potential new candidate in the eternal circle of dating.

Although she should have been miffed, she wasn’t. For her, it was important that her best friend was happy, no matter how.

And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

** Chapter 3 **

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

_ Brock’s world, 9:15 pm _

_ Bucky looked up from his place on the ground at Brock's throne and his brides. The voice definitely had come from behind them, but he couldn’t see anyone. _

_ Suddenly, the small sea of Brock’s victims parted and a small, pudgy man stepped forwards around the throne. He wore an old-fashioned, beige suit with a vest, a red bow-tie and a Fedora hat on his balding head. Round glasses hid cruel blue eyes in the man’s plump face, scrutinizing every inch of Bucky, as if he were some trophy. He patted Brock's leather-clad knee lovingly, before he walked on and stopped in front of the brunette, looking down at him. _

_ “I don’t zink ve have been introduced properly yet.” He spoke with the heavy Swiss accent, which Bucky already had heard several times. He stretched out his right hand. “Dr. Armin Zola, Brock's adoptive fazer and HYDRA scientist extraordinaire. Nice to meet you at last, Mr. Barnes.” _

_ Bucky arched his eyebrows. Why did that man know his name? And what exactly was HYDRA? _

_ Zola seemed to be able to read his thoughts, because just then he launched into what seemed like a longer history lecture. Bucky braced himself for the worst. Zola began to walk into a circle around Bucky, while he explained HYDRA’s history to him. _

_ “In Vorld Var II, HYDRA originated as ze scientific branch of ze Nazi Schutzstaffel. It vas founded by our great leader Johann Schmidt on the belief that humanity could not be trusted with its own freedom. What ve did not realize then vas zat if someone tries to take zat freedom, they resist. Ze var taught us much, if only at great cost of life. Our beloved leader vas cowardly murdered through allied troops. _

_ So, ve, ze remaining heads, concluded zat humanity needed to surrender its freedom willingly. So, when after ze war, S.H.I.E.L.D. vas founded, I was recruited and could continue my leader’s formidable work. _

_ Ze new HYDRA grew, a beautiful parasite inside many important organizations and companies of ze private sector, including ze United States Government, ze UN and several Fortune 500 businesses. For almost fifty-five years, HYDRA has been secretly feeding crises, reaping war. And vhen history did not cooperate, history vas changed. _

_ While HYDRA remained a secret for many decades, I’ve approached another vay to secure HYDRA’s sovereignty. I founded Project Insight, using a self-created algorithm…” _

_ Bucky knew he shouldn’t interrupt Zola's cliché villain tirade, but he really wanted to know what Project Insight was. It sounded alarming. _

_ “Project Insight? What’s that?” Bucky asked. _

_ Zola stopped pacing and glared at the Brunette, who had dared to interrupt him. The ice-cold stares sent shivers down Bucky's spine. To his surprise, the small scientist didn’t say a word but continued his rounds. _

_ “Ze var had left many children home – and parentless. I took care of zem and began to form zem with HYDRA as ze perfect role model. Zey became ze seed for Project Insight – a plan to eliminate all possible present and future zhreats, using my algorithm. _

_ I created zat algorithm to choose ze right targets...” _

_ “What targets?” Bucky asked with dread in his voice. _

_ Zola stopped walking and turned to stand right in front him.  _

_ “You! A TV anchor in Cairo, the Under Secretary of Defense, a high school valedictorian in Iowa City, a Political Science Major here in New York, the son of a Fortune 500 shark. Anyone, who is a zhreat against HYDRA. _

_ And nowadays, it's so easy. We just entered a new millennium and nozing is easier right now than getting data for my system. Ze 21st century is a digital book. You just need to know how to read it. Your bank records, medical histories, voting patterns, emails, phone calls, your damn SAT scores! My algorithm evaluates people's past to predict their future. And zhen…” _

_ “Then what?” Bucky whispered, dreading the answer. _

_ “Zhen my weapons scratch zem off the list.” _

_ “Your weapons?” _

_ Zola chuckled. _

_ “Fifty orphans shaped into human weapons. One for each state and wiz an unique modus operandi. And zat is just this country.” He explained. _

_ Bucky stared at the small scientist, speechless in the light of such viciousness. It would certainly explain the disturbing pictures from the art show. But what bothered him the most was the mention of the son of the Fortune 500 shark. _

_ Zola could only mean Tony. It also meant that his kidnapping wasn’t a coincidence. Obadiah must have been belonged to HYDRA and tried to do the same thing to Tony, which Zola had done to the children. Only that Tony had ended up into his current state and the man in front of him was partially responsible for that. _

_ Buck had no idea, why, but suddenly he felt a rage within him that could even turn the hardest stones into molten lava. He clenched his hands into tight fights and before he could stop himself, Bucky jumped and lunged at Zola. _

_ But he didn’t come far. Before he could reach Zola and pummel him into the ground for what he had indirectly done to Tony, Crossbones awoke out of his rigidity and did the same, only faster. His chains jangled, as the killer conjured up two white sticks, which seemed to crackle with electricity. _

_ Zola stepped aside nonchalantly and watched with a sadistic smile on his face, as Crossbones hit both sticks on Bucky's unshielded back – hard – before he punched the brunette in the stomach. Bucky cried out in pain as thousands of volts raced through his body and doubled with the pain from the punch. Gasping for air, he fell to the ground and spasmed, as his muscles seemed to get a life of their own. _

_ When the electricity reached his prosthesis, Bucky stiffened. His metal appendage suddenly stopped functioning altogether and left him lying motionless on the hard ground. Since it was partially wired into his nervous system, the sensory overload was too much for him. God, what would happen to Darcy now that he seemed to have failed? _

_ “Don’t worry about Ms. Lewis. It will be over soon.” A mixture of Crossbones’ and Zola’s voice answered his unspoken question. _

_ Bucky, lying on his back, looked upwards and into the sneering faces of both men. _

 

The Cell, 9:45 pm

“Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.”

Darcy counted, waiting for the water coming from the spray to end. She had no idea, how much time had passed since her abduction. Was it still the same day or the next? Although she was relieved that the water inflow had finally stopped for now and was running down the drain, it bugged her that her kidnapper hadn’t come back yet. If he wanted to kill her, why wait?

And why those awful games with the water? Was this some kind of joke? Probably. But Darcy hated such kind of games. She just wanted to get home. Exhausted, the young woman slumped down on the floor and leaned against the non-mirrored wall, pulling her legs close to her body, hugging them tightly, staring at the empty wrappers next to the drain.

She wondered, what Sam would say, if she died in this cramped little prison here in Bumfuck, Nowhere. Would he miss her? Would he be crushed? Two questions with only one correct answer. Yes. Of course, he’d be crushed, if someone would eventually find her rotten corpse. He’d probably blame himself that he didn’t come earlier. And she wouldn’t be there to give him a shoulder to cry on.

Suddenly, Darcy felt overwhelmed by her actual situation and she began to sob loudly, thick tears running down from the corner of her eyes. The young brunet whispered countless “I’m sorry”’s to her fiancé, her friends and her family, which went, of course, unheard.

She was only interrupted, when the cold water hit her again. This time, she didn’t shriek and jerk, when she was drenched. She just accepted that there was no escape from this hell, and wanted to be over.

Unknown to her, a red light flashed on a camera outside the cell, recording every move of her. It was sent to Brock’s surveillance system and the monitor next to the red LED timer, which just had started a countdown.

Large red numbers counted down of what would be the last two hours in the life of Darcy Lewis. The clock was ticking.

2:00:00 hours.

1:59:59 hours.

1:59:58 hours.

 

_ Brock's world, 9:50 pm _

_ Bucky was still in shock that they not only knew about Darcy, but that they didn’t care at all. For them, their victims were didn’t count. They were just collateral damage on their way to reveal HYDRA to the world. _

_ Maybe he should have listened to his gut and waited before dipping into such a disturbed mind. There was a reason why he only worked with kids and young adults. Their minds weren’t as burdened as the minds of adults, apart from a few exceptions, which were a lot more difficult to control, as this whole trip had proved. _

_ He just hoped that Steve had gotten back safely and would be able to find Darcy without his help, before she became Crossbones’ last victim. _

_ Above him, Zola clapped his hands together. _

_ “Alright, we’ve vasted enough time. Take him to ze chair. Zhen wipe him and start over.” He barked out the order. _

_ The demonic versions of Maria, Betty, Christine and Sharon stepped forwards and each grabbed one of Bucky's limbs. The brunette trashed and tried to fight against the steel-hard grip that each woman had on his arms and legs. But in the end, it was useless. They were stronger than him. _

_ The four brides carried him easily straight over the water to the other side of the hall, before they left for the hallway with the art show. In the middle, they turned right into another endless passageway and dragged him to the very end to an old, rusty door. Zola and Brock, who was still in chains, which seemed to grow in length from their attachment behind the throne in the Pond Hall, had followed the small procession at a respective distance. _

_ The rusted door opened up on its own, revealing a small, windowless room behind it. Right in the middle stood a wicked looking crossover between a dentist’s and a gynaecological examination chair. It was surrounded by a strange machinery, while above the chair was a halo-like circle. _

_ The Brides all but threw him down on the chair abomination. Three of them held Bucky down to prevent any resistance from him, while Sharon strapped him down. She fastened clamps made of unbreakable steel around his thighs and lower arms, two around his metal limb. Bucky tried to break free, but in vain. _

_ When everything was finished, Zola walked to what looked like the main control console for the torture device. He took off his glasses, wiped them clean with a handkerchief and put them on again. Then, he turned his head to Bucky, who was still struggling against his bonds. _

_ “Please relax, Mr. Barnes. The more you struggle, the more it’s going to hurt. It vas so nice of you to show up here. As you can see, ze procedure has already started. You are to be ze new fist of HYDRA.” The scientist said, before he punched a button on the console. “Hail HYDRA!” he exclaimed, while Brock and the Brides just watched. _

_ The machine whirred to life and the halo circlet above Bucky's head made a movement to the left and back to the right, before it lowered downwards right on Bucky’s head. Zola smirked and pulled down a lever. _

_ Bucky heard the clear hum of electricity exactly one second before millions of volts entered his brain and fried his nerve endings. He screamed until he was hoarse, before everything went white. _

_ He blacked out. _

 

Yggdrasil Centre for Neurosciences, 10:00 pm

Steve heard the blood-curling stream, before he even had reached the Lab. Immediately, his instincts kicked in and he speeded up to where Bucky and Rumlow were. When he entered the Procedure Room, everyone was in sheer panic.

Bucky, who was still attached to the apparatus, screamed so loud that Steve thought that either he was in pain or someone was killing him from inside. But it was probably both.

He looked over to the Control Room, where Sam, Jane and Bruce happened to be in a slight panic. Steve run through the adjoining door into the other room.

“What happened?” he demanded to know.

Before someone could answer, a sensor alarm sounded on the computer.  Jane and Bruce looked at each other, expressing shock at the sight of the monitor peaking in the red and moving to the "map" of Bucky’s mind.  As it became "cool," Rumlow’s turned into "hot."

“Shit. That Son of a bitch!” Bruce cursed. Steve did absolutely not like that sound of that.

“What the fuck just happened?” he repeated his question. Bruce sighed.

“The one thing we never speak of…it just happened.” He explained.

“Means?” Steve probed further.

“Your partner was right. Someone inside Rumlow's mind must have caught him and now it's hurting him. He’s lost to us for the moment.” Bruce clarified.

Steve clenched his fists. This was all his fault. He had persuaded Bucky to enter Rumlow's mind.

“But when we got here, you just topped and pulled him out. T'Challa told me.” He said.

“That’s because it was with Tony. Bucky is accustomed to his world.  Rumlow's mind, on the other side, is unfamiliar territory."

“But what can we do?” Steve wanted to know. He couldn’t leave Bucky in there on his own.

“Well, someone has to go in. Remind him what's really happening. And get him out.  Until then, he’s at his mercy.” Bruce said, looking at Steve.

Just then, the screaming stopped as suddenly as it had begun. The sudden silence unnerved Steve. He had to do something.

“I’m going back in.” he stated, leaving no room for discussions. Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“Are you sure? This time, no one is there to guide through Rumlow's world.” He said.

Steve sighed.

“Thank you, Bruce, but I can get by on my own.” The blond replied.

Bruce eyed the Agent, saw the determination in his eyes and in his posture. And he knew that Steve was serious about it. To be honest, Bruce was impressed by his willpower. For someone, who had never done this line of work before, he was eager to make himself useful. He liked that in a human. And Bucky seemed to like him.

“The thing is, you don't have to. We’re Bucky's friends, too. And we’re glad to help.” The doctor replied, patting Steve's back.

Steve nodded. Bruce clapped his hands together.

“Well, then let’s not waste time.”

Both men walked over into the Procedure Room, where Steve laid down in the third suspension device, while Bruce reconnected him to the IV cylinder and tube. Steve let out a shaky breath. He was going to do this. He was going on his own into Rumlow's mind to retrieve Bucky from his involuntarily prison, even if it would be the last thing in his life.

“Still nervous about going back?” Bruce asked him.

“Absolutely.” Steve laughed nervously.

In the observation room, Jane readjusted her monitors, which were showing Novak's vital signs, before she spoke into the intercom.

“Steve, your pulse is a bit rapid, and your blood pressure's a little bit high. You really need to relax.”

In the Procedure Room, Steve snorted at that.

“I just wonder why.” He commented, because due to the whole situation, it was no wonder that his vitals were going viral.

Bruce rolled his eyes and loaded a microchip sensor into a high-pressure injection gun, put it right on the spot between his left thumb and index finger, before he pulled the trigger and implanted it right in Steve’s hand. 

“Ouch!” Steve hissed, wincing from the  brief pain as Bruce loaded the chemical cartridges.

Bruce gave him a look, but did continue his work.

“I have to ask you some things, which I should probably have done before your first trip... Are you taking any prescription drugs?”

“Nope.”

“Any psychiatric medication?”

“No.” 

“What about narcotics?”

“No.”

“I know your partner's not here at the moment, but it's very important that you're honest with me.”

“I am. I'm a pretty boring guy.”

Bruce gave him another look.

“I doubt that.”

In the Control Room, Jane checked the "maps", Bucky's, Steve's and Rumlow's vitals and reports. It didn’t look too good.

“We should hurry, guys.” She said over the speaker.

Bruce nodded and walked Steve through what's about to happen now.

“I don’t know if it’s the same as if Bucky were with you. But the first five minutes could be disorienting. Give yourself time. Let the drugs do the work. If you can see, smell, feel, hear, taste things - you're on the right track. Once you've acclimated, try to get a feeling for Bucky. Instinct plays a huge role in this. Trust it.” He explained.

Steve nodded. He could do that, because he trusted his instincts. Bruce gave him a supportive touch on the shoulder, before he exited and shut the door.  Back in the observation room, he continued via intercom.

“You can control how you see yourself - clothes, shoes, that kind of thing - but   the rest of it is up to him. Use only  what he provides. Don't try to change anything. Or introduce something of your own. It'll only upset him.”

In the Procedure Room, Steve flexed his fingers and saw a little bump beneath his flesh.

“Steve? Could you please press the sensor? We need to check if it works correctly.” Bruce told him.

Steve did and the red light came on.  As the Agent was lifted, he looked at Bucky, then Rumlow. The suspension device clicked into place and the mask descended.

“Just in case you have forgotten…No matter what happens, Steve, remember one thing: It's not real.”

Steve's eyes became fixated on the clear liquid contained in the IV-like cylinder.  A liquid cloud of his blood grew within, preparing the mixture for injection.

The viscosity of the fluid starts to thicken and as the blood and chemical swirls began to take shape, Steve moved fast. Deeper into the fluid at a molecular level. It almost felt like soaring over some kind of liquid landscape.

Although it wasn’t his first trip today, Steve started to hyperventilate. He was having difficulty making the 98 transition.

And he was flying.

Flying faster, faster, faster. Through an entire new universe. With molecules as galaxies, atoms as all kind of stars, ions as dark matter and neutrons as planets revolving around the stars.

From the Control Room, the three staff members watched, where Steve was in the procedure room.  Alone.  His face contorted as if feeling the effects of tremendous G-FORCE.

Bruce sighed. Now, the Agent was on his own.

 

_ Brock's world, 10:15 pm _

_ Ash clouds hovered above the dark, gloomy volcanic landscape. Three women sat on the black earth, their bodies positioned in a uniform pattern, forming a weird statue.  At their feet, in a kneeling foetal position, face down in the gritty dirt, a piece of cloth draped over his head, was Steve.    _ __

_ With difficulty, practically inhaling black grit, Steve breathed deeply and rose to his knees. His hand moved to his face and he's briefly astounded by the texture of the gravel, the sharpness of it against his face.  Removing the   _ __ _ shroud-like cloth, he looks at the soil, smells it, tastes it. _

_ It was just like his first trip, and yet completely different. _

_ His blue eyes looked down at him. He was wearing the same outfit as before. Although the women hadn’t been there before, he could spot the ammunition bunker a few metres away – barricaded with no way for him to get in. He needed to find another way in, just after he had a moment to absorb his surroundings again. The sights, sounds and feel of the place. Like being within a dream. _

_ As he backed away from the odd statue, a shimmering light danced across his face. Shading his eyes, Steve looked for the source – and found it. _

_ Opposite him, across the valley, at one of the non-active volcanoes was a sheer rock wall, a massive cliff face pockmarked with rough "holes-in-the-wall."  _

_ Like a star, the light sparkled inside one of them. A fragment of a mirror reflected a beam away from Steve’s face to a white, sparkling path cutting across the valley floor to the base of the wall. _

_ With the light guiding him, the Agent followed the path to the rock. There, he started to climb the rock, until he slipped into one of the holes. There he found stairs or ladders, passed deep, seemingly infinite passages.   Like tombs, or the "drawers" of a mausoleum. But Steve guessed that he was on one of the uncounted levels in the maze. _

_ Since there was no Albino German Shepherd puppy or Young Brock was in sight, he had no choice but follow the light. Deep within one of the passages, the light suddenly started to flicker, faded, finally left Steve crawling into darkness. _

_ After what seemed like an eternity, he emerged in a cavernous room. As he looked around, he noticed the blood-red walls, the huge pond that took in a large part of the chamber, and of course the statue, which just happened to be HYDRA’s symbol. The whole place was dripping with decadence, reeking of sex, pain, lust, and cruelty. _

_ Steve kept going on and on, until he had reached the edge of the pond. On the other side of the hall, he could see his guiding light again. It ended at the feet of not one, but now three thrones, from what he could recognize. They reminded him a bit of the Iron Throne from the A Song of Fire and Ice Series, only that the backrests of these thrones didn’t consist of the swords of surrendered enemies, but three skull-headed octopuses with their appendages stretched out. _

_ Behind the thrones, four women had taken their places. Three of them were wearing some sort of fetish-gear, two of them with some kind of masks. His heart almost stopped, when he saw the fourth woman – blond, completely naked with faded tattoos all over her body. Her eyes were partially covered by a golden, triple-winged mask. _

_ “Sharon!” he whispered, before his gaze fell on the occupants of the thrones. Rumlow was sitting in the middle throne, his empty eyes staring into nothingness. To his right sat a small pudgy man in suit and glasses – Zola. _

_ _

_ But his attention was caught by the inhabitant of the left throne. Completely dressed in black leather from head to toe, he was a menacing figure. His shoulder-length hair pooled around a pale face with ice-blue eyes, whereby the lower half was covered by a metalized wrap-around facemask with a hooped, braided chain veil. In Steve's eyes, it almost looked like a stylised bird spreading out his wings. _

_ Although he wore that mask, Steve knew exactly, who that striking figure was. The metal arm was a dead giveaway. _

_ It was Bucky. _

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

** Chapter 4 **

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

The Cell, 10:30 pm

The water didn’t stop spraying. Although…it wasn’t entirely correct. It did stop at regular intervals, only that these intervals were noticeably getting shorter. Shortly after waking up in her prison, Darcy had timed them. Then, there had been twenty minutes between two sprays. Now, it was down to four. Darcy had the sneaking suspicion that in the near future, it would down to zero. And she knew what would happen then.

So, since there was obviously no help in sight, she had to help herself. Darcy stood up, although it was getting difficult now, since her ankles and fingers were swollen from hours of being sprinkled with ice water.

“Come on, Darcy. You have to do something.” She muttered to herself.

Darcy looked around the small room and ran her hands along the walls, the tile, everywhere, just looking for a weak spot. She focused especially on the ceiling panel. Then her eyes fell on her left hand and an idea popped up into her mind. Although she had no idea if was going to work and the first step was painful because of the swollen fingers, she took a deep breath and removed her engagement ring.

With a triumphant shout, she held it above her head and looked at the sparkling stone in the middle. Now, she could find out, if Sam had really bought her a metastable allotrope of carbon, where the carbon atoms were arranged in a variation of the face-centered cubic crystal structure, or if her fiancé had simply bought her a fake diamond ring.

She was about to find out.

 

_ Brock’s world, 10:45 pm _

_ Steve didn’t know if he should weep for joy or cry his heart out, when he laid his eyes on his possible, maybe future, boyfriend. Bucky was alive, had survived the long fall from the train. But at what cost? At the moment, the psychological engineer didn’t look like the nice guy, who had complimented him on his weird upper body measurements, but a warrior from a fantasy epos. _

_ “Bucky?” he called out to the brunette. _

_ But the other man showed no reaction to his name being called out. He sat immobile on his side of this non-spiritual triumvirate and stared emotionlessly at the blonde Agent. Steve would be lying to himself, if it didn’t hurt a little bit. _

_ “Bucky, come on. It's me, Steve. The guy with the impossible shoulder-to-waist ratio.” He tried it again. _

_ Once more, he didn’t get an answer or a reaction out of the man. On Brock’s right side, Zola began to cackle. He clapped his hands together and stood up. _

_ “Welcome, Agent Rogers. I’ve been expecting you. I apologize for my rough treatment the first time. But I didn’t calculate you in. That was my mistake. But vhy don’t you come a little bit closer? I have something important to show you?” he greeted the blond, before he snapped his fingers. _

_ The quiet water of the pond suddenly began to bubble, and before Steve could brace himself for the worst to come, six blood-red tentacles shot out of the water and wrapped themselves around Steve's upper body with unforeseen strength. Then, they carried him swiftly over to the small islet with the statue, dumping him on the sandy ground, before they disappeared again. _

_ Steve leaned with his back against the ugly statue, breathing heavily. He hated travelling by tentacle and just hoped that he’d never have to do it again. _

_ He then looked at the three thrones again, and Zola, who was still smirking at him. Steve resisted the sudden urge to punch the smaller scientist in the face, because he guessed that Crossbones would be faster than him in his natural or learned desire to protect his adoptive father. _

_ Zola snickered again. _

_ “I apologize again, Captain America, but I feared zat you might not vant to hear vhat I have to tell you.” He said. _

_ Steve glared at him, but Zola ignored it. He stretched out his hands, reminding Steve of a wizard conjuring up something sinister. Well, he was not entirely wrong. _

_ A series of transparent, holographic, monitors appeared in the air between the isle and the other side of the room, showing black and white as well as coloured newsreels. It was as if he was watching several TV channels at once. _

_ “I’m sure Former Director Carter has told you “everything” about me and HYDRA.” Zola stated, glimpsing at Steve. _

_ “Yeah, she told me that you and your organisation are a complete nutcase.” Steve spat. _

_ Zola chuckled, changing the changing channels by the second. _

_ “Madness lies in the eye of the beholder. Ze sanest person can still carry a small spark of it with her, live her life normally and still end up in a psychiatric vard. Ze last fifty-five years have been wery fruitful for HYDRA’s future. Vars, Catastrophes and Attacks – so much has happed that humanity’s faith in freedom should have faltered.” _

_ On the holographic screens appeared a newsreel from the Fifties. _

_ “Ze Korean Var. Total losses: about 750000 civilians and soldiers. HYDRA’s first foray into ze Vargame after WWII. Ve supported of course both sides, so ve could achieve our goal. And it vorked. Both states are separated and constantly at each other’s throats.” _

_ The newsreel changed again. Steve knew those pictures, because it was the war, where his dad had died. _

_ “Ze Vietnam Var. Total losses: about 1.16 millions. Just like before, ve supported all sides. It also allowed us to test some new chemicals and veapons on different test subjects. The results vere wery interesting.” Zola continued. _

_ Another newsreel. _

_ “Ze Six Day Var. Not as many losses, as we vould have liked, and too short. But ve got still satisfying results from our veapons manufacturers.” _

_ Then came the first news film in colour. _

_ “Awww, zis had been a beautiful one. Ze Cambodian–Vietnamese Var. So many casualties, although ve lost our allies there. But it showed us that madness resides in everyone.” Zola cooed. Steve was sick. That ass fucking cooed over killed war victims. _

_ The channels changed again, showing footage from different conflicts in the Eighties and the Nineties. _

_ “Ze Eighties vere a bit disappointing. Only minor conflicts. Nothing of interest for HYDRA. Luckily, ze Nineties vere even better. Ze Gulf Var. Ze Yugoslavia Vars. But I’m sure you already know zhat, since you participated in ze last one.” _

_ Steve gritted his teeth. _

_ “And what are you trying to tell me? That your so-called organisation is just a bunch of warmongers?” he hissed. _

_ Zola laughed again and Steve just really wanted to punch him in the teeth for that. _

_ “I merely vanted to show you that humanity isn’t able to control zeir self-made chaos anymore. It needs someone to bring order into zhe anarchy.” _

_ “And you’re that someone?” _

_ “HYDRA can bring order into zhe chaos. But order only comes through pain. Zere must be certain sacrifices to achieve zhat goal. Tell me, Agent Rogers, what are yours? Your friends, your family or your loved one?” Zola asked Steve, gesturing at Bucky, whose ice-blue eyes were now resting upon the Agent. _

_ A shiver ran down Steve's spine. Did that man honestly asking him to choose? Because that was something he’d never do. _

_ He heaved himself up and faced the triumvirate through the still present holograms. _

_ “You want me to choose?” he asked Zola. _

_ “Yes.” The scientist answered. _

_ For a long moment, there was silence all over the hall, the only sound the gurgling of the pond water. _

_ “No. I won’t choose. And you will let Bucky go and tell me, where Darcy Lewis is.” He growled. _

_ Zola narrowed his eyes, looking very unhappy about Steve's decision. He took off his glasses and began to clean them with his handkerchief, all the while saying nothing. When he was done, he put them back on his nose. _

_ “I vas afraid you’d say zhat. Asset, please show Agent Rogers, vhat happens to zose, who oppose HYDRA.” He ordered in a calm voice. _

_ The masked horror that was Bucky nodded and stood up. Steve had a very bad feeling about this. The Soldier walked towards Steve with such a murder strut that it made him go weak in the knees. No one should have the right to be that sexy, even this murderous version of Bucky. _

_ The Asset walked over the water, just like the Brides, and stopped a few metres away from the islet, eyeing up his mission. The Mission looked at him with sad eyes, but the Asset had no idea why it bothered him so much. _

_ “People are gonna die, Buck, if I, we, don’t stop them. I can't let that happen.” Steve pleaded with the Soldier. He had to get through the Soldier’s shell and see if Bucky was still there. But he got no reaction and it dawned to him that he might not have another choice but fight against him. _

_ The Asset stared at him coldly. _

_ “Please, don't make me do this.” Steve whispered, tears leaking from his eyes. _

_ But all his pleading failed. The Soldier took on a fighting stance and waited for Steve to make his move. Steve sighed. So, it seemed he had no choice. _

_ “I’m sorry, Buck!” _

_ With these words, he threw himself at the Soldier. The Asset did the same. Steve's fist collided with the metal mask and with a loud “Oomph!”, the Soldier stumbled back for a second before he managed to catch himself. _

_ With a growl and a menacing stare, he pulled out a long knife from one of his many pockets of his black cargo pants and attacked the Agent like a feral animal. Steve tried to use whatever he had learned in the military and during his training with SHIELD to block every of Bucky's assaults. Although he managed to ward off most of the slashes, then and now, the Soldier managed to get a hit as well as one or two kicks in the gut or another painful spot. _

_ To be honest, Steve was very surprised that a brainwashed Bucky was able to fight this well, since the brunette had no experience in that particular area. As Bucky approached him once more with the wicked looking blade, he had to use both hands to prevent it from perforating him, because Bucky's metal arm was damn strong. Somehow, he managed it to twist Bucky's flesh arm, which was cutting off his air supply, so that the brunette howled in pain and let go off the knife. _

_ Steve used that opportunity to headbutt him – hard –, so that the Asset suddenly fell down to the watery ground and that wicked mask fell into the water with a splash. For the first time, those ice-blue orbs stared up at him in confusion at the Agent. _

_ Steve took a deep breath and stretched out his hand. _

_ “Bucky, please. You have to snap out of this. You know me.” He pleaded with the Soldier. _

_ The Asset narrowed his eyes and slapped Steve's hand away. _

_ “No, I don’t.” he hissed and heaved himself up, before lashing out at Steve in anger, punching him in the face. Steve could feel his nose breaking. A warm liquid began to run down from his nostrils. _

_ “Bucky, I know that I just met you today. But I feel like I've known you my whole life.” Bucky punched Steve anew, but Steve chose not to fight back. _

_ “Your name is James Barnes and I like you!” Steve confessed. Bucky had grabbed him by the collar and held his hand up, ready to punch again. _

_ “Shut up!” Bucky screeched, before he did punch Steve again. Bucky's metal limb tore into the blond’s skin, ripping a large patch of skin from the right cheek, so the skin muscles became visible. Although it hurt like hell, Steve didn’t cry out. _

_ “I'm not gonna fight you. You're my friend. And I wanna get to know you better.” This only seemed to infuriate Bucky even more. He pushed Steve to the ground, so that the Agent half lied on the islet and half in the water. _

_ “You're my mission.” The Asset growled, before he pummelled Steve into the ground, punching him over and over again. _

_ “Then finish it.” Steve mumbled. His mouth was full of his own blood and he felt himself losing consciousness. Bucky suddenly hesitated and held his fist up high. “Cause I’m with you till the end of the line.” He whispered. Then he closed his eyes and went limp. _

_ Bucky stared with wide eyes at the bloodied body that was slowly pulled into the water by one of Zola's helper tentacles. He knew he should be proud that he had fulfilled his mission for his Master. But why did his heart hurt so much, when he looked at the Agent? And why did his eyes suddenly begin to release a hot liquid? _

_ He didn’t know. _

 

Yggdrasil Centre for Neurosciences, 11:15 pm

Natasha had joined the others in the Control Room. She wasn’t happy that Steve had made another trip into Rumlow's mind, this time alone. But she had put up long enough with his stupidities, so that she trusted him to make the right decisions, even if they weren’t the sanest.

Right now, she was standing behind Bruce, Jane and Sam, while also watching her partner in the other room. A look at her watch showed her that it was only forty-five more minutes till midnight. Looked like it was going to be one of her longer working days and she had already six mugs of her favourite coffee.

At least, Clint had been understanding and sent Peter to her with a large thermos and her favourite comfort food (God knew, she needed it today!) and a batch of muffins for the Lab team and the Agents. Of course, the muffins were long gone by now.

Her eyes rested on the mind-map, which was still within the normal parameters, although there had been a spike in Steve’s vitals just minutes ago. But both, Bruce and Jane had assured her, that slight fluctuations were normal.

Natasha sighed. This was already taking too long. If they waited any longer, then they would be too late to save Darcy from her fate.

A knock at the door got her attention. It was T'Challa.

“Natasha, there’s someone waiting for you in your temporary base. He’s got something important for you.” He said. Natasha nodded. This must be the files from Stark Industries, which Steve had mentioned before he had gone under.

“I’m coming.” She said and followed the Administrator all the way down to the second floor. When she entered the temporary base, she found an older man and a dark-haired woman sitting at the table, a stack of files in front of them.

As soon as Natasha had entered the room, both stood up to greet her.

“Hello, you must be Agent Romanoff. Steve told me, you’d be here.” The dark-haired woman in the elegant costume said. Natasha recognized her at once. Maria Carbonell-Stark, wife of Howard Stark.

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Carbonell-Stark?”

Maria held up a hand.

“Maria, please. And this is Edwin Jarvis. He’s our butler and family archivist.”

“Natasha.”

Both women shook hands, before Maria gestured to the folders.

“These are all records for any real estate, which Armin Zola purchased from Stark Industries. What are you looking for?” She explained.

Remembering Steve's words, Natasha began to rummage through the files.

“A base. Some sort of abandoned military base.” The redheaded Agent explained.

Edwin frowned, before he came to help her.

“I think there is only one object that fits the description.” He said. He pulled out the folder, which was at the bottom of the pile, and gave it to Natasha. She looked at the folder with the label “Camp Lehigh, New Jersey”, before she blew away the dust from the surface.

“What’s Camp Lehigh? The name sounds familiar.” Natasha mused, while she began to flip through the first pages of the folder.

“Camp Lehigh was an old base of the SSR in World War II. It was used as military training facility for the candidates for Project Rebirth.” Edwin started to explain.

Natasha frowned in confusion.

“Project Rebirth?”

“Project: Rebirth, also called Operation: Rebirth, Weapons Plus, the Bio-Tech Force Enhancement Program or the Erskine Program, was a highly-classified United States government project, administered by the United States Army's Infantry Weapons Development Program. The goal of this program was the creation of Super-Soldiers to be deployed in the war against the Axis Powers.”

“Did it work out?” Natasha wanted to know.

Jarvis shook his head.

“No, I mean, sort of. The only candidate, who showed some slight enhanced abilities, was a man named Gabe Jones. But after the final battle against the Red Skull, the leader of HYDRA, he crashed the plane, which had carried enough bombs to wipe out the Eastern Seaboard, in the Arctic. His body was never recovered. Any samples of his blood got lost in a fire at Camp Lehigh. That was also the reason why the base was abandoned. It had outlived its usefulness.”

“So, Stark Industries sold it to Zola.” Natasha stated. She had stopped browsing, when her eyes had fallen on a couple of blueprints of the base, especially of the Second Ammunition bunker. Something was off, when she looked at it. And she knew exactly what.

It was similar to the blueprints of Rumlow's house. So, the chance that there was a similar hidden room in there was relatively high.

“I think this is it. That’s where he’s keeping Darcy.” She suddenly whispered.  

Maria and Edwin looked at each other.

“Darcy? What does Sam’s fiancée have to do with this?” Maria asked in confusion.

Natasha turned her head to the older woman.

“Oh, didn’t Steve tell you? She’s kidnapped earlier today. Crossbones’ last victim. That’s why we’re in a hurry to find possible realties, which Zola had purchased in his lifetime, and where Rumlow could keep her prisoner.”

Maria shook her head.

“Really, if we had known that it would end like this, we’d have never sold it to him.”

Natasha pulled out her mobile.

“On the other side, if you hadn’t, we would never have known, what he was doing. He’d just have it done elsewhere.” She said, already punching in Fury's number.

It didn’t take long for the Director to take the call.

“Nick, it's Natasha. I think I know where he keeps her. I need you and Phil here in a chopper ASAP.” She said, listening to Fury's answer, before ending the call.

Then, the redheaded Agent turned to Jarvis and Maria.

“Can I borrow the file, until we have found Darcy? I promise to return it to you.” She asked.

“No problem. Just find her!” Maria assured her. Natasha nodded and left the room.

On her way to the roof, she stopped by the lab.

“Guys, Sam, I think we found her whereabout.” She said to the three. Sam looked at her with big, hopeful eyes.

“Really?” he whispered, close to tears.

“Yes. We’ll bring her back to you.”

Sam now actually started crying, so that Bruce put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“So, please watch that stupid oaf for me and make sure that he comes back.” Natasha said in a quieter voice.

“We will. Good luck, Natasha.” Bruce replied, shaking her hand.

She nodded in response, before she left the lab and made her way to the Helipad. She didn’t have to wait long for the SHIELD helicopter. Ten minutes, she was up in the air, together with Nick and Phil, and right on the way to New Jersey.

 

The Cell, 11:25 pm

Darcy felt like a rock climber in a crevasse, when she shimmied up the

walls of the cell by bracing herself in a corner, using her hands and feet to push herself up. It was a hazardous situation, especially since the tiles were partially very slippery and each movement was precarious. And she really didn’t want to deal with a concussion right now.

Darcy used, whatever strength and balance she had left to reach a position just below the Plexiglass. The fluorescent light bathed her in an eerie intense glow, giving the impression that she was underwater. Suddenly, she saw a gap between the glass and the wall and used her engagement ring to dig into it.

SCRAPE.

SCRAPE.

SCRAPE.

Darcy could cry for joy. Sam's ring was real. She was scraping with the diamond. But suddenly…

Suddenly, the shower sprayed water!  Darcy nearly lost her balance, but managed to stay pressed into the corner. In frustration, she kicked the shower head hard, sending the spray as far from her as possible, before she continued to dig at the caulking around the light fixture.

Outside the cell, next to the still running surveillance system, the red LED clock read 00:30:01. Thirty minutes left. And this time, that water wasn’t going to stop.

 

_ Brock’s world, 11:30 pm _

_ The Soldier felt like crying. And he had no idea why. He was looking down at the blond man’s body, who was floating underwater, tiny air bubbles still escaping the man’s lips. He looked like a human version of a mermaid – ethereal, beautiful, but only without a fish tail. _

_ “Steve.” It escaped his lips. From behind, he could hear Zola angrily calling him. But he ignored him. _

_ A splitting headache suddenly raced through his brain, causing him to cry out. Fragments of what seemed like memory flashed through his mind, cutting through the thick fog that was residing there. _

_ He saw himself with the people he called friends. Saw himself checking out the Agent when they first met. Felt the feelings, when they had been talking about everything and nothing in that hallway in the maze. Felt Steve's pain and despair, when he had fallen from the train. Felt his own heart beating faster, when he was with Steve. He guessed that could be called love at first sight. _

_ Looking down, he clenched his fists and came to a decision. _

_ Moving quickly, he bent down and grabbed Steve by his shirt, pulling him out of the water. He carried the man bridal-style to the other side of the chamber, ignoring Zola's raging temper tantrum and the red tentacles that chased them. _

_ With a huge leap, he left the dangerous waters, before Zola's helpers could catch him. Back on solid ground, he put Steve down and knelt next to him. _

_ “Asset, come back! You will obey.” Zola shouted across the pond. But the Soldier, no, Bucky ignored him. Only when the raging finally became too much, he took a deep breath and jerked his head back. With wide eyes he watched, as a metallic shield appeared out of nowhere, flew towards the throne and hit Zola, splitting him from head to the waist in two halves. _

_ Bucky gasped. Had he done this? _

 

The Centre’s Lab, 11:35 pm

Another alert caught Bruce’s, Sam’s and Jane’s attention. Jane looked anxiously at her monitors, while Bruce frowned at the console.

“What the hell is happening?” Sam asked, who really had no clue what was going on.

“Bucky changed the codes.” Jane stated flustered.

Bruce's head snapped up and he looked incredulously at his station.

“What?” he demanded to know.

“I said, it looks like Bucky changed the codes.” Jane repeated.

She typed in a command, but nothing happened. She tries again on another keyboard, but got the same results.

Nothing.

When she looked at the "map" screens, she saw something odd. It's only a small change, but it made all the difference in the world.

“Can you undo it?” Bruce asked, losing patience.

Jane shook her head.

“It would take hours just to re-route the system. And even if I did, I shouldn't.” she replied.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sam wanted to know.

Bruce analysed the situation and regretfully, angrily, worriedly realizes what's happened.

“He's done it.  Stupid, stupid man...” he cursed.

“Done what? Come on, guys. Enlighten me.” Sam asked.

Jane and Bruce sighed synchronous.

“Well, instead of going into his mind...” Jane began.

“He's bringing Rumlow into his.” Bruce added, shaking his head at Bucky’s actual stupidity.

He’d have strong words with him, if the brunette ever came back.

 

_ Bucky's world, 11:36 pm _

_ Bucky felt the change immediately. The air felt lighter, although the scenery had barely changed. He must have unknowingly reversed the feed and brought Rumlow into his world. Maybe not his most brilliant tactic, but a chance. On the other side of the hall, Zola’s two halves had stopped raging. Everything on that side was frozen for now. _

_ He turned his attention back to Steve. The blond looked like a ghost, all pale skin and blue lips. And it had been his fault alone. But now he had the chance to correct his mistake. _

_ Closing his eyes, Bucky pressed his lips gently on Steve's cold ones. At first, nothing happened. Then, Steve took a long, deep breath and opened his eyes, still disorientated from the longer lack of oxygen. But when he saw Bucky's face smiling in relief at him, his mind became clearer. _

_ “Buck!” he gasped. _

_ “Hey, Stevie.” The brunette replied, taking Steve's hand and squeezing it tightly. _

_ “Are you alright?” the blond asked worried. _

_ “I’m now, thanks to you.” Bucky gave as answer. _

_ Steve smiled at him and squeezed back. Bucky helped him getting up. _

_ “So, what are we going to do now?” Steve asked. _

_ “Facing it together…Captain.” Buck replied cheekily, eyeing him from head to toe. _

_ Steve frowned in confusion, before he looked at himself – and groaned in frustration. _

_ “Really, Buck?” he asked his maybe not future boyfriend. _

_ Bucky sniggered and handed him a circular, white, red and blue painted metal shield with a white star in the middle. It matched his patriotic Captain America outfit, which just happened to look like the bodysuit from the Centre. _

_ “Well, you have to live up to your nickname, Steve. Besides, you look really good in that suit.” Bucky assured him. _

_ Steve just blushed. _

 

The Cell, 11:40 pm

The water came closer to the ceiling with every passing minute. Kicking her legs to keep herself afloat, Darcy dug with the ring into the spot, which she had been working on for the last few minutes. And to her own surprise, she had managed to create a gap between the light fixture housing and an unused pipe leading to the surface.

She pushed, but still couldn’t get anything to move. The opening wouldn’t get any bigger. Darcy sucked in another large bit of oxygen and swam down to the bottom of the cell. Searching for something, she found a juice box and pulled out the drinking straw.

Outside the cell, the LED clock had counted down to 0:05:00.

The Final Countdown.

 

The Helicopter, 11:41 pm

The chopper roared across the sky. As they headed northwest, away from the inner-city and toward the countryside, Natasha gazed out of the window, trying to stay focused, fighting any after-effects of the long day. Next to her, Nick was flipping through the folder, while Phil quietly talked to his squad. The pilot then got in touch with her via headset.

“Agent Romanoff?” she asked from the pilot’s seat.

“Yes?” the redheaded woman replied.

“We reach our destination in four minutes.” The female pilot explained.

“Thanks. We’ll be ready.”

Natasha was anxious. Only a few more minutes and they would land at Camp Lehigh. Hopefully, they weren’t too late.

 

_ Bucky's world, 11:45 _

_ Steve was amazed, when Bucky conjured up something that looked suspiciously like a rocket launcher. Not that he had any doubt that the brunette would use it. He’d do the same. _

_ Bucky hoisted the weapon on his flesh shoulder and focused on his target – the strange abomination that was Zola right now – before he pulled the trigger and fired the launcher. A silvery projectile soared across the pond, over the head of the statue and hit Zola right in the middle. The Zola abomination exploded spectacularly in a shower of red, glittery stars – just like a small-scale supernova. Steve had to admit that it looked beautiful. _

_ As Bucky took the rocket launcher from his shoulder, the scenery around them shimmered and changed. They were no longer in the Chamber, but outside the base. The thrones were gone, as were Zola and the Brides. _

_ Only an unchained Brock and his version of Johann had remained. The older man looked close to the edge of panic. He flopped down to the ground and started hugging his knees, while Johann whimpered and laid his head on his Master’s arm. _

_ “What just happened, Buck?” Steve asked, marvelling at what the mind could do. _

_ “Something, I’ve always wanted to try out. Reversing the feed, coaxing people in my mind so that I can set the rules. But Bruce was always too afraid to try it out.” He explained. _

_ Steve nodded. _

_ “So, what now?” he wanted to know. _

_ “I’ll talk to Brock.” Bucky said. _

_ Bucky stepped forwards, walking on, until he was only a few metres away. His clothing changed from the angry black leather look into the bright white wear, which Steve had always associated with an angel. Stretching out an arm, Bucky knelt in front of the frightened man, who was weeping bitterly. _

_ “Brock, sweetie? Please look at me.” He asked gently. _

_ Brock was shaking his head frantically and refused to look up. Right now, he really looked like the young boy from the maze and not like the cold-hearted killer, which Steve had imagined ever since he had been on the case. _

_ “Brock, you can look up. Zola isn’t here anymore. He won’t hurt you again. I promise.” Bucky tried to coax him out of his shell. _

_ Brock stopped shaking. His scarred face was still smeared with fresh tears. _

_ “But he will always be here. He said that there are no prisoners with HYDRA, just order, and order only comes through pain. That’s why he hurt me and the others over and over again.” Brock sobbed in a childish voice, petting Johann’s head lovingly. _

_ “I know. It wasn’t right what he did. Or what he made you do. But you can change that. Just let go and everything will be alright. Crossbones will never make you do bad things again.” Bucky replied. _

_ The man/child Brock looked at Bucky. _

_ “Will it hurt, if I let go?” he asked. _

_ “No. I promise that it won’t hurt. Now come to me and give me a hug. Alright?” Bucky asked, opening his arms as an invitation. _

_ Brock hesitated for a moment, before he crawled forwards into Bucky's waiting arms, resting his head on Bucky's metal shoulder. The brunette smiled at the older man and closed his arms around the killer. _

_ “Now close your eyes, Brock. And everything’s going to be alright.” _

_ Brock, and Johann, did as Bucky had told them. Suddenly, the scenery began to change again. In Bucky's arms, Brock’s form began to glow so brightly that Steve had to shield his eyes. _

_ When the light finally went away, both men found themselves at the shore of a lake, surrounded by a large forest. But Brock and Johann were nowhere to be found. Instead, two beautiful, white lily bouquets were swimming on the surface of the lake and Bucky sat at the edge of the water, looking at the flowers. _

_ “Are they gone?” Steve asked carefully. _

_ _

_ Bucky nodded and held out his flesh hand to Steve. The blond took it and squeezed it tenderly. He couldn’t help but being relieved. Crossbones was no more and Sharon was avenged. _

_ And if Natasha had found Darcy, everything would be alright. _

_ “I hope you’re not going to be a stranger, now that we’ve finished this case.” Bucky said, still looking at what used to be Brock and his dog. _

_ Steve chuckled. _

_ “Never.” _

_ “Punk.” _

_ “Jerk.” _

 

The Cell, 11:45 pm

The water had now completely reached the ceiling. Darcy was entirely underwater but still alive. She used the straw to suck oxygen through the gap in the ceiling, but it's difficult to tread water and her lungs were aching. Why didn’t someone come and save her?

Darcy tried desperately to hold herself up by pressing her arms and legs

against the walls, but as she does, the straw slips from her mouth. She tried to reach for it, but only succeeded in pushing it away from her.

The thin stick headed for the drain. And disappeared in it. Darcy just wanted to scream in frustration, if it wouldn’t mean her imminent death.

 

Camp Lehigh, 11:46 pm

The helicopter landed and the three Agents jumped out, immediately heading for the further ammo bunker. Natasha just knew that this was the right place. 

Surprisingly, the door was open and they entered it. Phil switched on the light, since he had seen it on the blueprints. They were amazed at the historical aspects of this place, but now they had something more important to do. Natasha spotted footprints on the dusty floor and followed them to shelves, where they disappeared under.

“Phil! Nick! I found it.” She shouted. Both men run to her location and she showed them the footprints. Nick and Phil then shoved both shelves aside, revealing the hidden door and the retina scanner.

“Just great!” Natasha swore.

“Calm down! I got this.” Phil said, getting a small box out of his pockets, holding in front of the scanner. The box beeped and with a loud click, the door opened.

“New Toy from Skye?” Natasha asked.

“Yup.”

“Nice.”

Then they made their way down into the underground sanctuary.

 

The Cell, 11:46 pm

As Darcy desperately tried to find the straw through the tiny holes of the drain, she was so close to giving up. 

THUMP-THUMP-THUMP. 

Suddenly the cell started to vibrate. A repetitive noise WHUP-WHUP-WHUP – came from above.  The unmistakable sound of helicopter. She swam to the top of the cell and pounded at the ceiling.

She was in here. She was in here.

She was in…

Darcy closed her eyes, her strength finally failing her.

Outside the Cell, 11:48 pm

Natasha, Phil and Nick descended to the floor below. Instantly affected by the similarities and the differences to the idealized cell on the blueprints in Rumlow, they still pushed on.

And were hit hard by the sight of a visibly drowned Darcy, her motionless

body floating past them. They were too late.

Suddenly, her eyes opened and bubbles drifted from her nose and mouth.  Natasha immediately spurt into action and banged on the Plexiglas, calling out to her.

“DARCY!”

The thick Plexiglass still remained, but Darcy could now see the redheaded woman right outside her watery prison. Natasha pulled out her SHIELD badge and smacked it against the glass.

“MOVE ASIDE!” she yelled.

Then, she drew her gun and took aim. Darcy swam to the top of the cell and presses herself against the ceiling.

BANG-BANG   BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG. 

Natasha fired a circle of shots into the thick plastic. Water slowly leaked, but the damn thing was still solid.  Then, she put her gun away and did a roundhouse kick against the already damaged section.

CRACK! CRASH! 

Water poured from the cell.  Darcy's body descended on the torrent of water. Natasha reached inside and pulled her to safety. Darcy coughed, sputtered, and thirstily drank in oxygen. Sweet oxygen. Holding her tightly, Natasha sank to the floor, the water from the cell spilling everywhere, while Darcy sobbed her heart out.

She was so relieved. They had found Darcy just in time. Crossbones had lost his last victim.

 

Yggdrasil Centre for Neurosciences, 12:15 am

Bucky and Steve opened their eyes, as they were lowered on their respective pedestals and their masks were pulled upwards.

In the next moment, Bruce rushed in, freeing them from their IV’s and the fastenings, while scolding Bucky.

“Did you really have to this? Reversing the feed on our own. Do you know what could have happened?” he hissed.

Bucky laid a gentle hand on Bruce's shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Bruce. I didn’t mean to. But at least it worked out alright.” He explained.

Bruce huffed and gestured at the sheet-covered form of Brock's lifeless body.

“He flatlined. And we weren’t able to revive him.” He said.

Bucky sighed.

“I know. But he found his peace. I think he deserved it, at last.” He whispered.

Bruce wanted to say something, but choose to check the two men’s vitals instead.

Suddenly, there was a commotion outside the lab. The next thing Bucky and Steve knew was that Natasha was ushering in a wet Darcy, wrapped in several blankets.

“Darcy-bear!” Sam cried in joy and rushed to his fiancée.

“Sam!” Darcy sobbed, as the black man wrapped his arms around her, fully intending to never let her go again.

Bucky was delighted for them and a glance at Steve's face told him that the blond was feeling the same. Natasha let them have a moment, before she walked up to Steve and smacked him on the back of the head.

“Ouch. What the hell, Nat?” Steve whined.

“That’s for all the times I had to put up with your bullshit.” She snapped at him, before she hugged him tightly. “That’s for being the best partner a woman can have.” She said, before she kissed his cheek and moved on to Bucky, who received the same treatment. “Thanks for watching out for my best friend.” She said at last.

“It’s been a pleasure.” Bucky replied, shaking her hand.

The redheaded Agent nodded, before her gaze fell on Brock’s dead body.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’d like to know why our prisoner is lying dead in this lab.” Fury thundered through the lab.

Bucky glanced at Steve and this one just nodded. So, Bucyk told them everything Zola had revealed.

The Orphans.

HYDRA’s hidden agenda.

Project Insight.

Fury was not amused, muttering something about rotten apples and working overtime for the next few decades.

Bucky didn’t care. He grabbed Steve's hand and squeezed it lovingly. He had the feeling that this, despite the initial circumstances of their first meet, was going to be the beginning of a unique relationship.

He just knew.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

End of Part 2!

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭


	4. Epilogue: Make my way back home when I learn to fly

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

**Epilogue: Make my way back home when I learn to fly**

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

Red Hook, Brooklyn.

It’s been two weeks, since they had found Darcy in the old military camp in New Jersey and freed her just in time. Two weeks, since he had been trapped into Crossbones’ mind and almost forever had been caught in the man’s spider web. Two weeks, since he finally had a loving, and doting, boyfriend.

After the whole procedure and the article currently written by Bruce and him, which would be published soon, Bucky had taken two weeks off to clear his head from Brock’s abyssal dark psyche, even it meant that his sessions with Tony had to be rescheduled. That didn’t mean that he didn’t visit him now and then.

Maria and Pepper highly appreciated that he still took care of the teen. They even had sent flowers and get-well wishes as well as an invitation to Stark Mansion for dinner. The invitation had included Steve as well, which led to meeting Steve's famous foster mother in a neutral environment. Peggy had been charming and Bucky liked her a lot. She had also thanked for his help in catching her niece’s murderer.

Bucky had blushed and stammered that he’d do everything for his loved ones, while clutching Steve’s hand tightly. Peggy had looked at them knowingly and then winked at them. She had winked at them and then wished them a nice date, before going back to the dinner table to talk with Maria.

Only then, Bucky had asked Steve, if this was a date. Steve had shaken his head and replied with a “Only if you want it to be one.”. Bucky had said yes.

Yesterday had been their second date. Steve had wanted to take him to his favourite diner, which his partner’s and best friend’s husband owned. Ironically, it was the same diner, which he and his friends favourited. Bucky almost had to laugh at Steve’s comical expression, when the blond realized that.

But the rest of the date had gone smoothly. They had eaten good food, talked about everything and nothing and spent a great evening together. Only, Steve had been a bit fidgety after dinner, because he swore black and blue that he recognized the red mop of hair hiding behind a newspaper in the corner booth on the other side of the diner. Probably Natasha, who was there to spy on them, because she needed some gossip for work. Steve really loved his best friend, but sometimes she was too nosy for her own good.

The rest of the evening had been spent on Valentino Pier in Red Hook, watching the city lights, on Bucky's rooftop garden, watching whatever stars were visible, and in Bucky's bed, watching each other, while they explored unknown body domains.

Which led to the here and now – the morning after. If there was one thing that Bucky liked even more than waking up in his comfy bed curled up with Winter, then it was being spooned by the, literally, hot body of his boyfriend with his cat resting on their joined hips. Yup, Steve was a furnace, no, a downright thermal power plant, and Bucky loved it.

The brunette man opened his eyes to blinding sunlight. Feeling Steve shift behind him, Bucky groaned and covered them with his flesh arm. He changed his position, so that he laid on his back. This caused his bed partner also to move and Winter to hiss angrily at him, because of the sudden loss of his warm resting spot.

Bucky opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for a moment, before his gaze wandered to the bright red LED numbers of the stylish black wall clock, which showed 6:30 am – which meant he had to be at work in roughly three hours with one hour driving to work.

Suddenly, he was wide awake and all but jumped out of the bed. Winter was not amused and made his escape through the slightly open door. Bucky strode to the other side of his bed and started to shake Steve's shoulder.

“Steve, wake up.”  He hissed. But the blond man only mumbled something unintelligible and turned his back to Bucky. The brunette man shook his partner’s shoulder again, but got no reaction. He sighed, because who know that Steve could be such a heavy sleeper. Time to bring in the heavy guns. He marched right into the adjoining bath. He returned one minute later with a red pitcher and emptied the very cold and very wet content all over the blond agent.

With a loud and very unmanly squeak, Steve's eyes flew open and he fell very ungracefully out of his side of the bed. Bucky couldn’t help but giggle at Steve's bedraggled appearance.

“What the fuck, Buck?” he yelped. Bucky threw a blue towel on Steve's face.

“Sorry, but I need to get to work in like two hours. And if you weren’t such a heavy sleeper, I wouldn’t have to do that. So, now shower and then breakfast.” Bucky ordered.

“Shower, huh?” Steve’s eyes began to twinkle mischievously at the word. Buch raised his eyes challengingly. He turned around slowly, very well knowing that Steve’s gaze kept resting on his ass. Then he swaggered towards the bathroom, giving his partner a perfect view of his backside.

The only thing, which kept Steve from drooling too much, was the inviting look Bucky threw him over his flesh shoulder. Steve didn’t hesitate for even one moment, before he sprang to his feet and followed him quickly, shutting the door loudly behind him.

 

Forty minutes and two quickies later, both men found themselves in Bucky’s kitchen. While Steve made two large stacks of pancakes for them additional to several sandwiches and much needed coffee, Bucky fed Winter and prepared two extra bowls for the day. The black cat huffed at his owner, but started to devour his own breakfast nevertheless.

When Bucky was done, he sat down at his kitchen counter, where Steve was already waiting for him with a smile on his face. The blond pushed a full plate over to Bucky and both men started eating, both enjoying each other’s company.

“So, I have another session with Tony today. We’re trying to reverse the feed and coax him into my mind.” Bucky told Steve, interrupting the silence.

The blond’s face beamed so brightly that Bucky thought for a moment that the sun had started to shine inside his kitchen.

“That’s great, Buck. Tell him hi from me.” Steve replied. Bucky nodded. “I can’t wait for him to meet you personally. I’m sure, Maria will approve. What about you. Any news about Project Insight?” he asked back.

Steve sighed.

“Yeah. We found several files hidden in Rumlow’s house. Mostly about Zola’s algorithm, but also a file for each orphan Zola got his hands on and turned into a killer, each one with his own modus operandi. Apparently, the whole thing is not only a purely American problem, but a global one – Germany, France, Great Britain, Romania, even Wakanda and so on.” he explained.

“Wakanda? T'Challa won’t be pleased to hear that.” Bucky looked shocked.

Steve frowned.

“What’s got your administrator to do with Wakanda?” he wondered.

“Chal is just a voluntary Admin. He’s the CEO of Wakanda Inc. America and, like, the Crown Prince of Wakanda?” Bucky explained.

“Okay.” Was the only thing Steve answered, baffled that Bucky was on first name basis with royalty. “Nevertheless, we’re starting to coordinate the search with the corresponding SHIELD branches in each state and country.” He continued.

“So, you’re home tonight?” Bucky asked hopefully.

Steve chuckled.

“Sure. By the way, Peggy invited us for dinner. You surely don’t want to miss that.”

“No. You know I like her.” Bucky laughed, before he finished his hearty breakfast.

“I know.”

 

Exactly five minutes before half past nine, Steve and Bucky found themselves at the East River waterfront right before Bucky’s building. Bucky’s cab, which would bring him to work, was already waiting for him. Steve held Bucky in his arms, the foreheads pressed together.

“Be careful of Obadiah. He sounds like another version of Crossbones. And he was Hydra, too.” Steve pleaded.

“You know I always am.” Bucky tried to calm him down.

“Says the guy who fell from a train.”

“That was one time. And yet, I live, oh Great Captain America.”

“I really dislike that name. You do this on purpose. Now I know why I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Damn it, you're right.”

“You're such a punk.”

“And you’re a jerk.”

Steve placed a tender kiss on Bucky’s forehead and then another one on the other man’s lips.

“Just be careful, Buck.” Steve whispered against Bucky's sweet mouth.

“I will.” Bucky promised.

They shared another tender kiss, before Steve let go of Bucky at last. The younger man walked to his cab and got into it. Steve waved after him, as the yellow car slowly made its way towards the FDR Drive. He couldn’t help but wonder how he had been missing someone like Bucky in his life. But now, that part was over. He had Bucky and would never let him go.

And wherever Sharon was now, she surely would approve of his choice.

In the end, it was the thing that mattered.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

_ Run and tell all of the angels, this could take all night _

_ Think I need a devil to help me get things right _

_ me up a new revolution 'cause this one is a lie _

_ We sat around laughin' and watched the last one die. _

_ Bucky walked across the flaming dunes, the wind once again playing with his hair, his eyes following the bright blue light that served as a beacon for Tony's kind of lighthouse. It didn’t take him long to reach the cave at the foot of the massif. Tony, who’d be normally waiting, was standing at the entrance for once, his eyes narrowed, as if they were not used to the sunlight. _

_ Yeah, I'm lookin' to the sky to save me _

_ Lookin' for a sign of life _

_ Lookin' for something to help me burn out bright _

_ I'm lookin' for a complication _

_ Lookin' 'cause I'm tired of lyin' _

_ Make my way back home when I learn to fly high. _

_ The teen had wrapped his arm around his torso and looked generally awful. His eyes had that haunted look again, which had slightly disappeared before the ordeal with Crossbones. Bucky couldn’t blame him. Two weeks without his presence could do that to him and Obie was a force to be reckoned with. _

_ But Bucky was now a force of his own and he planned to use his newfound knowledge. He held out his metal arm to Tony. _

_ “Hey, Tony. I’m sorry for my long absence. But it was not in vain. Wanna come out and I show you?” he tried to coax the teen out of his literal shell. Tony's dark shifted from Bucky's smiling face to his gleaming metallic appendage and back. Although Bucky could see the desire to take a closer look at the arm in Tony's eyes, the teen hesitated. Behind him, in the shadows, he could see the outline of Obie sneering at him. _

_ I think I'm dyin' nursing patience _

_ It can wait one night _

_ I'd give it all away if you give me one last try _

_ We'll live happily ever trapped if you just save my life _

_ Run and tell the angels that everything's alright. _

_ But this time, Bucky didn’t let himself intimidate by the older man. For a split-second, nothing happened. At least not for Tony and Obie. But Bucky saw, felt, the imaginary landscape shift for a split-second. The change was barely noticeable, but Bucky felt that he was in his own mindset. The rules were his now. _

_ “Please come out. Obie can’t hurt you anymore. If you come out, I’ll let you tinker with my arm.” He offered with a cheeky wink. _

_ Now that was an offer, which even Tony couldn’t refuse. He took a step forward. Behind him, Obie started to rage. Tony ignored his presence, as if his trauma was suddenly non-existent. The teen stepped further and further. Bucky held his breath, as he watched the brown-haired young man coming out of the shadows, making little steps at one time. _

_ He couldn’t help but feel the burst of pride that blossomed in his heart. Two years of hard work might be about to come to an end. _

_ I'm lookin' to the sky to save me _

_ Lookin' for a sign of life _

_ Lookin' for somethin' to help me burn out bright _

_ I'm lookin' for a complication _

_ Lookin' 'cause I'm tired of tryin' _

_ Make my way back home when I learn to fly high _

_ Make my way back home when I learn to… _

 

_ Fly along with me, I can't quite make it alone _

_ Try to make this life my own _

_ Fly along with me, I can't quite make it alone _

_ Try to make this life my own. _

 

_ Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Tony set his first step out of the dreaded cave. In the shadows, Obadiah let out an inhuman, furious scream. But Tony ignored him as he did before. He watched with awe the clear blue sky, as if it was the strangest thing on Earth. _

_ Bucky felt his eyes getting wet. He wiped a stray tear away and made a step forward. _

_ “Tony, it's alright. Just take my hand!” he smiled. _

_ The teen blinked at Bucky and stared at the stretched-out metal hand – and took it. Inside the cave, Obie screamed one last time, before he dissolved into nothingness. _

_ Just then, Bucky knew that everything was going to be alright. _

 

_ I'm lookin' to the sky to save me _

_ Lookin' for a sign of life _

_ Lookin' for somethin' to help me burn out bright _

_ I'm lookin' for a complication _

_ Lookin' 'cause I'm tired of tryin' _

_ Make my way back home when I learn to… _

 

_ I'm lookin' to the sky to save me _

_ Lookin' for a sign of life _

_ Lookin' for something to help me burn out bright _

_ I'm lookin' for a complication _

_ Lookin' 'cause I'm tired of tryin' _

_ Make my way back home when I learn to fly high _

_ Make my way back home when I learn to fly _

_ Make my way back home when I learn to... _

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

The End!

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**Author's Note:**

> Come and join me at [Tumblr](http://terrenis.tumblr.com).


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